Dear John,

Since I met you i’ve felt a deep but oddly unnatural connection. A sort of one way co-dependency if you can grasp my meaning.

Our entire relationship seeming has been about you, day after day, year after year. A never ending onslaught of demands for attention, and unbending deadlines.

At first everything was a rush to reach the next. There was little patience to enjoy the bounties of beginnings, the excitement of discovery. Always pushing, you seemed almost angry if we stood still for even a moment to embrace the fullness of the experience.

Throughout the years we have had our fair share of ups and downs, to be sure. But what I remember most is your forceful instance that we were in a hurry, a rush into the next.

You are like an alarm clock blaring, shattering the experience, screeching like nails on a chalkboard — the unmistakeable display of your frustration that this experience has gone on too long — your demand that it must come to an abrupt end.

I stare unfocused in amazement how it is only now, after so many years, that I recognize the seductive manipulation you’ve used. You have enticed me and nearly everyone around us to be your unwitting soldiers of enforcement for your bizarre agenda.

That needs to be finished by friday…

What time will you be here…

It’s almost the end of the month…

I haven’t heard from you…

The same message from so many different voices, echoing your constant demand that you get your way, now, or else. Crafty you, to have so far a reach… as if you are not bound by the very rules you impose.

After so many years together I find your demands growing still. Pushing now on the opposite end, as if to contradict the first message to grow up so fast. You seem obsessed now with concerns for what we missed before, somehow forgetting that it was you who couldn’t abide a moment longer.

What sort of strange disorder has overcome you that after so many years, you wish we would have stayed a little longer, but still push to depart even now? Your 24-karat jeweled gift adorning my wrist, a token that you care so much, but ticking in disgust as the moments past like the tap of an impatient foot.

I find that our relationship feels nothing more than the sum of moments. It’s an empty feeling, like a measurement of nothing — a cup full of empty. I want to feel the sum of experiences, to fill the cup and laugh as the richness of life overflows its limits and only then becomes the next.

It’s about time then… We’ve been together for so many years, and with both a solemn endearment and a joyful realization, I must insist we divorce in intimacy and be… just friends.

I’ve taken the liberty of gathering your things and while it seems ironic that i use one of your tactics… It feels appropriate that I impose a deadline to pick them up. Knowing you don’t like to play by your own rules, I’ve placed them in the trash can.

The garbage is picked up on Tuesday, best pick them up by then.

Im nearly certain you’ll agree that It’s about time.

Your x,
Ray

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