When I came up with the fancy little idea, I thought the last would be the easiest. Granted, the other 6 were written way in advance, not knowing what they would eventually become. But this one wasn’t. I thought the love would flow but it’s been derailed by too much b.s, so without further ado…. here’s the 7th and last edition.

Hey Sexy,

You’re not so sexy anymore but sometimes it is about the inside and not what you look like on the outside. Or at least I’ve told myself that to make myself feel better.

It’s been over a year now since your un-requested face lift and I am starting to see the struggles on so many faces that it pains me to be on your streets lately. You know I’ve never been someone who is overly social. But that has changed since you were changed and what I hear and see is kinda tough to take.

The year was both the longest and shortest of my life. A year has passed? Say what? When did day’s start becoming weeks and weeks start becoming months? Did the memo go to my spam folder? How can we explain that the one year marker appeared and it felt like the storm happened 15 years ago? And how can we explain that Katrina passed through over 1 year ago and it feels and somewhat looks like it happened just a week ago?

I think that is really the main thing about living in your bosom again. Twenty-four hour days feel like 100 hours sometimes. And 3 months feels like 3 hours sometimes. I think it’s just the wackiness of our lives here with you.

I don’t want you to get upset, but I’m not sure you should get too attached to the majority of people who have come back to rebuild you. Those of us who knew your charm and beauty before the storm are fighting for you daily. But we are starting to lose the battle. We want to be here for your revival, we want to spearhead your return to greatness. But the more we fight for you, the more it seems that we are told to hit the pavement. And as badly as we want to be here, to rebuild you, to overcome the weaknesses that were here before and haven’t gone away, we are getting no help baby. People that feel you, that breathe you, that give you your soul, are jumping ship like they’re on the Titanic. As the hours turn into days and the days turn into weeks and the weeks into months, I’m starting to believe that they are the smart ones. That they actually get it. We are on the Titanic and the damn thing is getting close to breaking in two.

Love ya forever- DKF

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3. The 38th Most Unwired City
4. Deal with it, baby
5. Love Letter Number 5