I have been writing in a journal on an almost-daily basis since I was 17 years old. This is a record of me going through each entry from the beginning, and commenting on the me from fifteen years ago.

I didn’t know you, but I know what happened was immensely unfair. Some things are beyond the control available to us, though, I wish I had known you, so I could tell all of your achievements and the grandeur of your life, but again, life is unfair in many cases. You went but fast and with flair, unknown to me, but not unappreciated. In some ways, I am jealous. I’ll tell you all this when we dance on the other floor beyond.

Huh? Like you saw something unfair happen to someone you didn’t know, and didn’t do anything about it? And to make up for it, you plan on doing a boogie woogie with them in the afterlife? That’s what you call being the hand of God? Lame.