This may be the hardest letter I have ever written.
Not just because my hands are tied together or that I'm using a piece of burnt wood to write with, but that breaking up with someone is always difficult.
Rhonda, I've done a lot of good, hard reflecting these past 36 hours, and I can only come to the conclusion that I am no longer in love with you.
Don't get me wrong, it's not only because you shoved me out of the Jeep while doing a pretty good clip or have left me out here in the woods to perish, though I did take both of those into consideration. I truthfully feel you and I have not been seeing eye-to-eye for some time now, and this time spend alone in solitude among the trees has finally allowed me to see just how far apart we've grown.
I hope you aren't upset by this news. Gosh knows, I never wanted to hurt you. And I suspect you never wanted to hurt me, either, even during those times you actually did physically injure me.
(I will tell you, whoever your Girl Scout leader was, she should be proud. These knots are never going to give. It's just now that I am starting to wish that I had paid more attention to my Scout leader when I was younger, instead of daydreaming.)
Oh, Rhonda, Rhonda, where did we go astray?
When did we stop sipping champagne and start downing "40s"? When did our comical games of paint ball turn into full-scale warfare?
Remember the first time we met at that really, really out-of-the-way club in Pacoima? My friend Troy convinced me to go. Now wish I hadn't. Because if I hadn't, then I would never know the pain of being apart from you.
There are so many questions why, Rhonda. Why did you kill my Lucky Bamboo plant? Why did you sell my Jockey shorts on eBay? Why did you find "Silence of the Lambs" so darn funny?
I guess I'll never get an answer to any of these questions. Maybe they are for the Universe to answer.
Or the police.
Who knows?
Rhonda, I am not scared to be alone without you. I wanted to take a moment to thank you for providing me with that. Having become so preoccupied with my own demise, being alone hasn't even come into the equation.
You were always a giver, Rhonda. I hope you'll always stay that way, even through the pain of our breaking up.
In light of my current status, I hope you will feel comfortable taking custody of Bootsie. He's adored you since you enrolled him in that special training. (Anyhow, as of late he's taken to attacking me whenever I grab for the remote.)
It's wonderful that we will not have to go through that heartbreaking process of dividing up our mutual possessions. Oh, how that task seems to turn ex-lovers into bitter enemies.
Feel free to make use of my collection of 8-track Country and Western tapes and Wayne Newton standee.
Relationships come and go, but I don't think anyone could ever call ours anything but extraordinary.
We are two unique souls who must continue on, no matter what the future holds.
And though I'm pretty sure I know what my future holds, I never want you to give up on yours.
Please don't think ill of me, even if I am breaking your heart. I think in a few years, you will come to realize this was for the best for both of us.
So, please don't come back here and try to convince me that we should try and start again. It's for the best.
If, however, you would like to come back to give me a ride to a hospital emergency room or even to the nearest ranger station, I suppose I could bear it out until I am delivered to safety, and we part forever.
You can still keep all of my stuff.
Be good to yourself, Rhonda.
Love always,
Robert
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