Tuesday, June 01, 2010

Thank You, Good-Bye

Hey there. It's been more than a year now, hasn't it? I won't be asking how you've been, not for lack of manners or a distaste for formality but simply because I don't care anymore. You have, to me, completely ceased to exist and it is only your meager efforts ever and anon that rescues your existence from the intense denial I have subject it to.

I must say, I do admire your... perseverance. I'm still weighing the pros and cons of bidding you a formal good-bye. On one hand, it would only be fair to notify you of the termination of our rather unusual social relationship; on the other hand, I really, really, really don't want to talk to you anymore. So while I'm still busy wondering what to do, maybe I should also think about what I would really want to say to you.

Thank you, I suppose. No, really, that's pretty much it. It's been one helluva emotional roller-coaster ride, something I've never experienced before... and would not care to experience again, mind you. Thank you for listening to me when I was sharing my innermost thoughts and feelings... right before you interrupted me with some inane comment about something shallow, like showbiz or school gossip. Thanks for trying to understand, even though you quickly dismissed anything I say as rocket science and, therefore, not worth understanding.

Thanks very much for the spare time, spare effort, spare concern and spare love you heaped on me whenever it suits you. If I were a dog, I would be most heartily grateful for these scraps you carelessly tossed aside. Thank you for texting me only when you needed something... or when you're absolutely bored. I am forever grateful for that time when you said you missed me... and then proceeded to have phone sex with me, because, deym, you were horny and needed to get off. Really.

Thanks for sharing a lot of things with me... like your ego. Remember how you were so proud of you're perfect grammar and flowless diction? Or how you were top one in English in your class and, thus, needed none corrections from me? I really couldn't not believe how all those call centers would not accepted you. Can't they not understand you're English?

How about that summer vacation we had? I really admired you back then 'coz you're so knowledgeable on a lot of stuff, like which would have been a better place to stay if only I hadn't booked a month in advance or how the cook could've made that damned chicken dish better with just a frickin' dash of paprika or the plebeian tricks they did with the fucking milk and cookies we had that blasted night or the much shorter goddamn route we could have fucking had taken if only I fucking goddamn knew how to fucking drive?

Excuse me, I need a breather.

Aaaand I'm back. God, did I write that? I must admit, I have a rather uncouth tongue at times. I could really be so rude and unkind to people, you know? People who ask for a second chance and ditch it in a heartbeat. People who constantly bemoan their lack of money and employment yet would not "stoop down" to flippin' burgers because they're friggin' BS Nursing graduates so the world better get the jobs as nurses or CSRs or fuck the hell off. People who look down on the profession of thousands of other people trying to earn an honest living simply because it involves fastfood grease. Yeah, my blood boils for those people but, of course, enough about me, this is all about you.

So, again, thank you... for everything. Thank you for making me hate an entire city because of one insane week. Thank you for being there for me whenever you have nothing at all to do (which kinda puzzles me considering you were, last I heard, still unemployed because... well, never mind. Just thank you) Thanks for the blowjob and the fucking and the two-hour long torrid kisses. Thank you for commenting on my poor fashion taste; I'm sure you only meant good by it.

I'm really grateful... for everything and now, get this: It's over. O-V-E-R. It's not silent treatment; we're over (if there ever was such a thing as "we" to ever register in your mind) Silent treatment usually lasts for a couple of weeks, at its worst and, given that I have not responded to you for, what, three-quarters of a year, I suppose, don't you think you should already be figuring something out by now?

Oh, and I'm sorry I couldn't fulfill that promise you badgered me into. You'll have to get a copy of the LoS movie elsewhere.