(no subject)
Dear Brodie,
While I'd never say that you're the lowest and worst example of a 'better half' that ever came down the pike, that would only be because I wouldn't waste my breath expressing it.
It's so over- you have no idea. If this letter found it's way into those hands of yours that chose to fill themselves with a fucking sega controller as opposed to- say- my breasts, then you've 'screwed the pooch' as they say for the last time in this relationship.
I can remember- not well, but vaguely- a time when it was a struggle to keep you from pawing me every moment we were alone; when the sweat from your brow dripped onto mine bi-hourly, when we'd spend hours talking about nothing in particular, and still have it feel like the most interesting subjects we'd ever discuss; when you took the time to explain the difference between red & blue kryptonite; when I felt the dull ache of your absence from my body hours after we'd spent what seemed like days making love.
But it's all different now. Your drive regarding anything outside of the realm of 'fire', 'shoot', 'pass', 'pause' and 're-start' is as non existant as our sex life. You have no direction, no college ambition, no job prospects, and for- for the record- not much of a Dick either. To think I put up with your loser Ass for this long makes me question my self-esteem! Didn't I think I could do better than you???
The next time I fall for a callow bastard like you, I hope I remember to shoot myself through the heart first...
...because I'll never give anyone else the satisfaction of doing it again.
DROP DEAD SEGA BOY!!!
~Rene.
P.S. If I ever find out that you did something stupid with this letter- like frame it- I'll slug you!!!