Dear Jules
Letter
by Paige Rizal
Dear Jules,
I know you were expecting me to be here when you got back but I am not and I am not ever coming back. I am really sorry - I just can't put up with your ridiculous bullsh*t any longer. You are more childish than a fourth grader, my God. Who says "Now your not getting anything for your birthday!?" Please, I am 28 years old for f*cks sake and I make more money than you.
When I first started packing I thought I would leave a few essentials for you. Dishes, some furniture, the shower curtain, food stuffs, etc. Then I realized that you do not deserve any sort of kindness. So that is why everything is gone and you can consider yourself lucky that I did not slash your tires and leave the front door open.
I need to live with someone who is alive and capable of enjoying life! Not a high strung chihuahua of a "man" with a pole up his ass. That's what you remind me of, with your bugged out eyes and your constant high pitched barking of complaints. You hump like a chihuahua too. You only do it one way and it's all ways really really fast. What was your record? Two minutes? No girl wants that Julie, no matter what your mom tells you.
Plus you are so boring, how can you live like that? Get up, smoke pot, bitch about going to work, go to work, come home, bitch about having to come home and then go to bed. Everyday, day after day, day in and day out. I feel like screaming, so I am out of here, my mind is made up, and it is none of your business where I am.
Don't Call Me!
Paige
Dear Jules© Copyright 2004 Paige Rizal, printed with permission.
