I know that, in letters, it is customary to begin with, “dear,” but in the given circumstances, I feel that such a word choice would be misleading, at best. You see, my critical eye, this is your “Dear John” letter. We’re skipping the “Dear” part. I think you know why.
For decades now, you have not been nice to me. In fact, I cannot think of a single day of my life upon which you have not abused and taunted me. You have been consistent, and relentless. And you’ve refused help. You’re not one of those abusers who apologizes afterward, and swears that you’ll change. Well, unless you count, “I wouldn’t say these things if you weren’t so (insert insult here)…”
And I have striven to rise above you by doing better, being smarter, growing stronger, grooming more. But, just like a mother-in-law who visits a clean house, only to point out the one remaining piece of clutter on the floor, you are just waiting for an excuse to criticize me. So, I’m kicking you out. I’m done. I’m sticking the proverbial fingers in my ears, and humming a victory march. I can’t hear you any more.
And now that you can’t interrupt, I must tell you:
I am a beautiful, strong, wise, good, loving, talented, charismatic, “whole package” kind of woman. And you are no more.
From the bottom of my heart: