My dear,

You talk to me of the edge, wanting my opinion. Well then, let’s ponder together. What is the edge? Where is the edge?

There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.

The others- the living- are those who pushed their luck as far as they felt they could handle it, and then pulled back, or slowed down, or did whatever they had to when it came time to choose between Now and Later.

The others- the living- are those who told themselves the edge is not worth finding, not worth dying for.

But those who’ve gone over, those who never speak of it to us who haven’t, they know death. They know life. For they stand forever between both eternally, tasting the pleasures both have to offer. Knowing it’ll lead them to a quick death… Never being happier.

The edge is a drug it seems.

Falsely yours,
Hunter Stockton Thompson