An Open Breakup Letter
Hey,
We need to talk. I just can’t take it anymore. I’ve tried, believe me, I’ve tried. I've tried to make it work. I’ve tried to hang onto the good times. But there’s just nothing left. The time has come for us to go our separate ways.
I really did love you. Once. Remember when I was young? Remember how excited I was to see you? Remember how the very thought of you filled my heart with wonderous joy? It was pure magic!
But honestly, I haven’t felt that magic in years. Heck, I haven't felt it in decades. Once the kids came along, I was content to fake it because that’s what we parents do. We put on a happy face. We go through the motions so they can have the happiness they deserve. And really, there were times, when I looked in their bright smiling eyes that I thought, maybe, just maybe there was some hope for us.
There isn’t though. I can’t keep kidding myself. It’s not you. I know, that’s such cliche, but, really, it’s not. You’re not the villain here. It’s just that over the years, you’ve changed. Or maybe I have. I don’t know. All I know is something has.
It’s like you take way more than you give now. For you, it’s become all about the show. My needs, my happiness, they don’t matter.
It just costs me too much time, money and energy to deal with you now. I’m exhausted. I’m just so over twisting myself in knots for you because… Well, because why, exactly? Because I’m supposed to? Because that’s how it’s always been done?
I see other people and it doesn’t seem like their lives are so fraught with anxiety. They seem to just effortlessly float by on a cloud of happiness year after year. That’s not me. That’s not us. I’m tired of pretending.
So, I’m done. You hear me, Christmas? I. AM. DONE. I’m done with the shopping. I’m done with the tree. I’m done rearranging my entire house to suit your whims. I’m done with your horrid music and even worse movies. I’m done with the never-ending pressure to buy more and more crap that none of us needs or wants just to appease your ever-growing consumerist appetites. Yeah, I’m just done. I just don’t care anymore. I have zero fu*ks left to give, so I’m out.
Oh, and come to think of it, maybe I was wrong. Maybe it isn’t me. Maybe it’s you. Yeah, it’s definitely you. You kinda suck, just sayin’.
Sincerely Not Yours,
Ba Freaking Humbug!
