Writing Un-rightable Wrongs

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Lady,
I love you so freaking much.
I don’t care that you are married.
I would tattoo “I love you ______,” all over my face if I didn’t think it would make you find me less attractive.
I mean, you’re not religious, right? Neither am I. So marriage isn’t that big of deal. Not compared to the way I feel about you, and what our life could be like together. And I wouldn’t say any of this if I thought you were happy. But you’re not. Half the lights in your face are turned off.
I have those lights.
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And money, lots.
And the kind of burning, unquenchable desire to make you happy that only years of torturous hindsight can create. I was wrong. I was wrong. I was wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong WRONG. Very very wrong.
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I’m lying at your feet, here, a different man. Not having you in my life has taught me everything I ever needed to know about being with you. Very different. I freaking swear. I would say ‘completely different,’ but I’m the same in all the ways you liked.
So please, give me another chance. Soon, before you have children. At least consider it. He’ll be fine. I’ll make sure he’s fine. I’ll hire people to make sure he’s fine.
Yours truly.
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cc: Sandra, if this works can you photocopy it? Probably someone else could use it too.

 

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