Dear Bitter Amanda,
I am cleaning out my house and came across this most disturbing image of The Day, written to my high-school sweetie and future ex-wife sometime in 11th or 12th grade. Other than that One Thing, what in the world could I have been thinking? I mean really! I'll be spending the rest of the evening cleaning up my vomit and asking myself "Why?" Anyway, I feel like I needed to share this with someone, finally, and somehow be purged ... in addition to the biffage and hurlage.
You'll notice I blocked out the names. It's not because I care whether or not you remain anonymous, really. It's because I was so horrified that someone actually wrote that note that I don't want to be associated with you. You did the right thing by sending it to me, though. Valentine's Day is a detestable occasion, and you've given me a great excuse to write that very sentiment. Thanks. Now, I am so glad you see the error of your former ways. I would issue some sort of encouraging remark, like "rock on" or whatever the kids are saying these days, but quite frankly it wouldn't make me feel good about myself. So you'll have to encourage yourself, champ.