Dear Serious

Dear Serious

I need to tell you some things, things that are hard for me to say — things that may be hard for you to hear.

I don’t how to break this gently, so I’m just going to go for it: I don’t know that things are working out between us. We’ve kind of grown apart over the years, you and me, and I just don’t know if I can be committed to you anymore. It’s not that I don’t like you — I really do, I mean I’ve got a history of land ethics on the Lochsa and commentaries on Numbers and near-Eastern thought on my nightstand to prove it — but I just need to be released to explore other approaches to life. We can’t be exclusive like we maybe have been.

This might come as a surprise. We’ve been together since, well, as far as I can remember. I have you to thank for being the odd child who joined adult conversation instead of playing with the kids, who couldn’t take jokes, who hated games, who did everything perfectly. I mean we were tight in those early years; I was never seen without you by my side.

But you have to admit we’ve been growing apart. Like in 9th grade when I was having fun at that birthday party and the other girls were surprised because they didn’t know I could laugh. You would’ve never gone for that. I think that’s when I saw the writing on the wall.

And then, remember when I was applying for scholarships in high school? And I was so tired of trying to prove how qualified I was and just totally let loose for that last one? Just had fun? Yeah, that was the only scholarship I received. That’s when I realized that you maybe our relationship was not serving me well.

I hate to say it, but it’s only gotten worse since then. You know about my dalliances with playfulness and humor. Maybe you brushed it off as idle flirting. And I guess it was because I always came back to you, always let you make the final call.

And that’s what’s not working for me. I’m tired of you being the ultimate say on everything. I’m tired of trying to be meaningful, important, deep. I’m tired of it always having to be about you. I love significance and thought, I’m all for the weightier, essential things in life. But not as their slave. Not with them looking over my shoulder with a critical eye, judging whether my work is worthy or not. What if I want to say something stupid? Do something frivolous? Or, gasp, even make a mistake? What if not everything has to be about you, or circle back to you at some point?

Our relationship is just too co-dependent, it’s about me trying to make you happy and meet your expectations and it’s just not working for me. I like you as a friend, I even would love for us to be good, close friends someday, but I just can’t be in the kind of relationship we have now.

That’s right, Serious — I’m breaking up with you.

Best wishes and see you around,



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