A Drunken Break-up Letter from the Left

Dear O,

Because of you I haven’t been able to sleep in two days. I can’t stop thinking about you. Why won’t you return my calls or emails?? I know you and your snobby friends are laughing at me.  I’m not mad at you, I just want to talk. I think you owe that to me after what we had. All I can do is keep drinking and hope the pain dulls enough for me to bang my head against the wall. I hate myself for getting involved with you.

I was counting on you to do the right thing. We all were. I can’t understand how you can be such a back-stabbing whore. Screwing me over is one thing, but with a Methodist? Why are you doing this to me? Is it because I wanted you to get an abortion so they could use the fetus’ stem cells to make my ex-girlfriend walk again? You thought I still loved her, but I was just tired of wheeling her around. I guess it seldom pays to do the right thing. You are so fucking selfish.

I guess this is the end of our “relationship” I really though we could have had something. When I first met you, I thought you were so big and beautiful. I was so sure we’d be happy together for a long time, but unfortunately you turned into a supreme bitch. There’s no way around it. You suck more than the Bengals and WKRP in Cincinnati. And if you think that’s being overly cruel, now you know how I feel. I’m fucking crying now. I can’t take this much more. At least now I won’t have any problems buying a gun at Wal-Mart to make the pain go away.

I hope you enjoy the loss of all those manufacturing jobs that could occupy a small foreign country, which ironically is where they are going to stay now forever. I guess my grandmother won’t be getting her iron lung after all. Thanks for killing my nana bitch.

Wait, I didn’t mean that. I mean, I do but I don’t. God this so goddamn frustrating!!!! Why won’t you call me???? You used to be my inspiration. You gave birth to flight, but now all I can do is drink another glass of vodka and burn all my pictures of you.

All you will probably say is “I really want to be friends.” Why the hell would I be friends with someone like you? You make me ill. I hope you get to feel the pain someday that you are causing me now. I hope to hell you grow up really soon, like in four years. That’s probably asking too much of someone like you, because don’t even have the damn courtesy to return my twenty emails and phone calls. Don’t fucking ignore me!!!

This is the end. I hope you are happy with your Methodist and his “traditional values.” It would be a shame if he found out about your gay cousin in Pennsylvania. This reminds me, I have a call to make.

Fuck the Wright brothers and goodbye forever.

By: Seamus Condron

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