Dear Alcohol, your less presentable companions, et al:

I know I’m the one who broke things off. I know this. It really was me and not you. You’re crazy-attractive. I love the ways you look, smell and taste. I loved how you made me feel. You made everything seem brighter, more fun, less…annoying.

But you weren’t good to me and what’s more, you didn’t care at all. I liked you way too much but when I was with you I did awful things. You messed with my career. My family hated me when I was with you (even more than usual) and my friends rolled their eyes. You ruined romances. Even the police told me I was no good with you (pretty darn forcefully, too. Thanks for that…NOT).

Long story short: I wasn’t a good person around you. Ending things was the right move. I don’t want to get back together. This isn’t about that.

I’m bothered to see others with you. Especially the ones whose lives you’re trampling like you did mine. The train wrecks make me miss you most. How sick is that? Shouldn’t seeing people having manageable fun with you bother me more?

And why are you everywhere, all the time? Can’t you go be somewhere else?

Stop stalking me,
-T

p.s. Is there a reason why everybody else who’s stopped seeing you is totally nutso slash religious? Should I be worried?