Ever wanted to send a "Dear John" type letter to anyone or anything? From colds to vehicles, gradeschool teachers, the chest you stubbed your toe on. Anything. Enjoy!
It has come to this, the point at which I must say we are through. I tried to be patient. I hoped we could at least part on relatively good terms, but as this relationship has lingered long past the point at which we should have recognized that it was time, I feel I am going to have to be the one to end it.
It is more than clear you won't.
So here it is. I'm sorry, but we are through. There is nothing more to say. I thought at first it wouldn't be so bad, that maybe it would be ok. It isn't. You have hurt me. You have taken up far too much of my time and given nothing back to me (no, that ache in my stomach and back muscles does not count). Not a single present that was for me and not for you.
You can keep the empty kleenex box and the Buckley's. I will take my energy back, along with my ability to breathe. I also reclaim possession of my nose and lungs.
I'm sorry it had to be this way.
Next time, don't bother me.