I am sorry if I offended you with what now seem like perhaps somewhat harsh words. I can see now that the increasingly aggressive actions I took against you were maybe a little dramatic. Next time, just text me back so I don't have to drive to your house in the middle of the night with a boom box and repeatedly throw large rocks at your bedroom window.
I have been working through my serious rage by reading a really excellent book entitled The Dance of Anger. It was court-ordered after hiring that hit man. I know that it's supposed to be about healing my compulsions to find you and then shank you with a knife I made from raccoon bones I found in my yard, whatever, but really, when I look at the title, I picture us in a dance to the death. I like to think it would be held around a roaring fire with sacrificial animals roasting in the pit. I would, of course, be victorious because I do a lot of power yoga, but that is beside the point.
My therapist(s) recommend that I compile a list of all the things I should apologize for. This list probably goes back to when we were much younger and I repeatedly called you stupidhead in my diary. I'm not really sure if you knew about that. I guess you do now. I also tried to organize a rebel faction of our cousins to revolt against you and tie you up with electrical cords and leave you in Grandpa's utility closet, but everyone ignored me and went to go play with the dogs, so I don't really know if I have to apologize for the intent.
So, here's my list, which was by entirely by choice and not court-ordered!
1. I'm sorry for stretching out your Crocs. I think my feet are a lot bigger than yours. I blamed it on your dog, but it was me. Sorry, Verbose Loaf.
2. I'm sorry for not inviting you to my birthday party. I really would have, but I don't like you that much.
3. I'm sorry that I don't smell like cheese like you do.
4. I'm sorry I said all those mean things in apologies One and Two. I just popped a couple (dozen) Valium and feel ready to go on debasing myself for your benefit.
5. I'm sorry for spray painting the words "Slore", "Skanky Ass Ho", "Not my Cousin Anymore", "Not a Friend", and "Flamingo" on your door. I would particularly like to apologize for the last one. It was inappropriate. I see that now.
6. I'm sorry for that time I wiped my nose on you while you were sleeping. I couldn't find a tissue.
7. I'm sorry for the 200+ raging voicemails I left on your phone. In retrospect, I was probably angry at myself for being so co-dependent and needy. I am also sorry I threatened and slandered your dog, Verbose Loaf. Through the light of several anti-psychotics, I can honestly tell you that he is a very nice, good dog, and unlike you, he does not smell like cheese, but rather only dead possum.
8. I'm sorry for hiring a hit man named Bruce to go kill you. I should have known a hit man with the name Bruce couldn't be expected to do the job right.
9. I'm sorry I stole your crocs that I stretched out, as outlined in Apology One. You can't really have them back. I need them for, uh, stuff.
I spoon it at night.
I hope we can move on and find a place of mutual trust and respect, as outlined in Chapter 8 of The Dance of Anger. Your opinions are valid, even if they are dumb as fuck and when you talk I want to karate chop a wooden block like I did that one time at the kindergarten talent show. I miss your face, your grating midwestern accent, your equine laugh, and most of all, getting to use you like a human tissue.
I miss when you were actually cute. I've always been this adorable.
I miss you, in a calm and rational manner, but no longer feel dependent on you for my personal happiness and self-fulfillment. However, if you don't call me back in approximately three minutes, I plan on commenting some choice words on your most recent instagram pictures of food and cats.
Love,
L-Nasty
Not in your closet.
HAHAHA JK I LIED I'M IN YOUR CLOSET.
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