Oh, well! Fuck you, then,
And I don’t have anything else to say about it.
I honestly don’t.
I just think it’s really, mm, funny how—
No, you know what, I honestly don’t have anything else to say about it.
I really just don’t.
Even if you do, I’m just, you know, ZIP, mouth closed, high road.
(By the way, there is a quote from Coleridge that just, mff,
PERFECTLY describes the situation between us and actually just your whole deal,
but why bother with it! Why bother, if you’re not going to listen to me
you’re certainly not going to listen to Coleridge.
Which is so funny because it seems like you LOVE listening to other people
and all the shit they have to say about me.
But whatever! It’s not important, it’s really not important to try
to get you to listen to either me or Coleridge about it. Why start listening now, right??)
I JUST THINK IT’S REALLY FUNNY!
How someone who’s spent so much cumulative time
resting their head against my chest
could end up caring so little about the heart beating just underneath it!
It’s kind of funny, if you think about it, and I do,
pretty much all the time!
I mean it’s fine, obviously,
you don’t have to treat me well,
no one is going to come and arrest you over it.
You might find a time when life stops being so EASY for you
and you kind of wish you’d stopped being a heartless bitch sooner
(or whenever! I don’t know your life).
I don’t know, maybe someday you’ll get sick of being
so FOCUSED and HARD TO PLEASE and IMPOSSIBLE TO READ
and you’ll think to yourself, oh my God, you know who had
amazing arms, was Lord Byron. That would be a shame,
if that happened, is all that I’m saying.
I’m not saying that it’s going to happen.
By the way, I’m moving, so in case anything
gets delivered to the house for me, if I’m not there,
that’s why. I’m just telling you this in case some of my mail
shows up and you need to know what to do with it.
I don’t know where I’m going to be staying yet.
Probably—honestly, I don’t even know, it’s impossible to guess.
If you need to forward me my mail, just know that I’m super far away
and you should probably ask one of my friends
one of my many friends—
one of my very many, super loyal friends, many of whom live nearby,
because I’m a VERY good friend and they all know what’s going on with me—
anyhow you can just ask one of them where to forward my mail,
if I get any mail at your house,
which used to be our house but isn’t now,
because I’m sure I’ll know where I’m staying by then and I’ll
definitely be sure to have told one of them by then.
So just ask around.
By the way, and as long as we’re on the subject,
you should know that I’m not still mad at you,
even after all the shit you’ve done to me that I’m not going to bother to go into detail over right now because you know it and I know it and we are both super clear on the specifics of the shit you pulled, so I don’t even have to mention it.
I honestly don’t have time to go into it all right now.
But you should just know, like for the record,
that I actually still love you,
like a lot, like a really incredible amount,
in a way that says more about the kind of person I am
than the kind of person you are
if you know what I mean.
Ugh, this is already way more than I had time to talk about in the first place.
I’m leaving in what is basically the MORNING, tomorrow,
and it’s crazy late already, so I’m basically
just wasting time I should be spending packing for my amazing new life
in Greece
or, like, wherever I happen to end up
who’s to say
whether it’s Greece or some other country
(also I just hope you KNOW that if I end up dating a guy after this
it has NOTHING to do with you?? like it is not a STATEMENT on you,
please do not read anything into what I do with my life after this as a comment on you,
if you happen to see a full-length oil portrait of me and I’m still wearing the earrings I stole from you it’s not because I’m trying to SAY anything so don’t overthink this, okay.)
Please feel free to consider us pretty much divorced.
(I know I do!!!)
And feel super free not to even teach our daughter my name.
It would save time, right?
That’s all I want for you, is just for you to
have a lot of time on your hands, to really THINK.
About whatever it is that you might need to think about,
anything that your conscience might suggest to you.
I’m not bothered either way, I’m honestly not.
I mean, she might GUESS my name, and if she ends up looking like me
(which, objectively, I think we can both agree would be great for her),
IF she ends up looking like me people will probably say something about it to her
so she’s going to end up learning my name eventually.
I’m not trying to rub anything in, it’s just that quantitatively
MOST people know my name, and what I look like,
I don’t know if that qualifies as being “famous,” just—
most people know about my whole deal, and they’re probably going to put
two and two together,
so even if you don’t teach her my name,
somebody will, and that’s not my fault.
If she does end up like me I hope you are a little nicer to her than you were to me
but that’s not my business!!!!
N O N E of this is my business at alllll, which should be just such a relief to you!!!
or who knows,
who honestly knows what you consider a relief!
you’re HARD TO READ.
Anyhow, I just wish you the absolute BEST.
I hope SO MANY good things for you, and that
your next boyfriend can figure out how to make you happy,
if that’s possible, I sure hope that’s possible,
and there’s no point in talking about any of the other things I could say,
so I won’t.
Consider it my last gift to you!
(I’ve given you a lot of gifts, you probably forgot about them.)
Anyhow I’ll probably be dead soon,
or at least I can’t imagine hurting worse than this!
Anyhow I’m thirty-seven now, I have to, like—oh my God,
thirty-seven, and I need to take that really seriously.
No one is even in love with me right now,
which is outrageous (okay, some people are, obviously, but none of them count).
What if I’m too old for sex, I’m almost F O R T Y.
Are there even ages you can turn after forty? or do you just turn into a tree
oh my God, my body is like autumn,
where all the leaves are falling off the trees
only what’s falling off me is hotness
maybe I will just move to Greece
honestly I could just move to Greece and die
and then everyone would want to have sex with me
only it’ll be too late
because of how dead and in Greece I’ll be
oh my God my life is a mess
I need to just be more like Greece
and then I’ll be fine
or dead
or both
This is happening to ME
being thirty-seven and embarrassed is the worst thing I can think of
the hottest thing in the world is not caring
and then being like, seventeen
a seventeen-year-old who’s never had a feeling is the only acceptable way to live, sexually
and if I’m not careful I’m going to end up being thirty-eight
better just go die in a field
in Greece or wherever, stabbed by some Ottomans
and you can all just live with your own embarrassment when you see how dead I am
Okay byyyye, I truly wish you all the best!! ALL OF IT, the absolute MOST BEST!