I know this will probably come as a huge shock (since you're pretty self-absorbed), but I'm afraid Ijust can't go on like this. I've been dragging you around for years now, and I just don't think I can do it anymore. You see, I just don't know what I'm getting out of this arrangement. You're always lurking about, feeling sorry for yourself, muttering snotty things under your breath. It's really not good for me. So I just have to let you go.
Don't get me wrong, I understand. You're used to things being a certain way, and it's hard to change. To be perfectly honest, I don't want to grow up either. I am terrified. I mean, how am I supposed to figure all this stuff out? I don't know what's going to happen. This is all completely foreign to me. What if I make the wrong decisions? This is serious stuff, here. This isn't just "Oh, gosh, which club should we meet up at tonight?" This is BIG. Like mortgages, and dinner menus, and vaccinations. But, you know what? I'm a little excited. I get the feeling that I might actually like it here in Grown-Up Land. The pay isn't so great, but I don't have to worry about where I'm gonna live next year, or how I'm gonna tell that guy I don't wanna see him again. I get the feeling that it's sort of safe here. Which is a HUGE relief, I tell you what. It's exciting being young and having endless choices, but it gets a little old (no pun intended). When it comes down to it, I don't want to live on cigarettes and coffee, and try to be a size 3, and nurse hangovers, and listen to dumb sorority girls babble. And it's really lonely waking up in a big empty bed. So, I'm gonna buck up. I'm moving forward.
It's not glamorous. I get peed on and puked on. None of my clothes really fit anymore (not that anyone's looking). The grey hair is coming in at quite an alarming rate. I'm sort of squishy and jiggly in places that would horrify you. But that's just the way it is now. And hanging on to you isn't doing me any good. As a matter of fact, it's sort of pathetic. I don't need to be young to be me. And while I'm still not quite sure who "me" is, I'm pretty sure I can figure it out. People do it every day, right?
So, thanks for the memories. Thank you for making me laugh, and taking me to places I never would go now. Thanks for being brave sometimes. I'm really glad we had our time together. I wouldn't be the same without you. And remember that guy you made me pick up at a bar that one time? Well, he's working out quite well. We're gonna be just fine (I might ask him to write a break-up letter of his own though. That rebel crap is a little much sometimes).
With love, always,
Michaela
