will never

I must confess (or rather reflect,
seeing as I doubt very much your
discovery of this or any
other of these) first my tendency
to keep or fail to discard any
of the things I have ever come in
contact with. This realization of
character is only a matter
of understanding where I have come
from and where it is I am going,
an understanding I have not come
to, myself. This all to point out still
another revelation of self
and more probably, relationships;
less probably, the casual meaning
of the word. My ability or
lack thereof, an inability
I should say, as I have formerly
admitted, has carried itself to
the digital age, effectively
packing myself into electric
warehouses stacked with cardboard boxes
of previously important art-
icles in the broadest sense I can
describe. These boxes, I must admit,
are subject to idle sweeping at
any moment of any day and
this is the reason I am writing.
To diverge, I've discovered just now,
that You can be a number of You's,
each changing drastically the meaning
of this letter. Whatever it may
bring, you will likely be unaware.
On idle sweeping: I've come across
a number (hint) of past works that I've
read time after time, not through lusts or
desires, and not through adoration
or favor, but through a genuine
interest in the pieces. Seeing as
its been a recurring theme in my
sweeps, it must be concluded and it
must be thoroughly concluded at
that, that it will be important that
I know you and the improbable
way we met will be worth repeating.
I can only say this in respect
and awe that we are who we are and
we were who we were; with only the
hope that we will be who we will be.