Beloved Nexystenty,

I know I’ve been distant lately… 

Babe, it’s not you, it’s me. 

Every time somebody hears me plug into an otherwise normal conversation that I write campus satire, every time I hear “Oh, so you write for Nexustentialism?” And every time I say we’re the second-in-line comedy publication for UCSB… ma cherie, it hurts me. 

You were my muse. My light. Mi corazón. My Mattress Firm.

I haven’t made love with anyone in my Fortnite bed sheets since you left me. Not that I couldn’t find someone (my DMs haven’t quieted since I departed), but it would feel like violating the sanctity of your memory. 

Maybe it’s my consistent diet of duck fat and my $3.2K imported cheese wheel, but I weep tears of sorrow, not of dangerously high cholesterol.

Everything reminds me of you. Being hassled by CalPIRG in the Arbor… the smell of my cheese wheel… being hassled by my neighbors regarding the smell of said cheese wheel… You did always love fermented llama milk. 

My heart yearns for our long walks on the beach, the warmth of your pasty, chapped knuckles around my skull, the way you’d chuck rocks into seal carcasses just to watch them explode with flies and curdled blood… One always remembers the little things.

Nexystenty-chan, I can’t get you off my mind. 

I’m coming home. 

Yours forever and ever,

Gaucho Marks