Dear Mr. Morris.

...it has been six months since we broke up. I'm happy to say that at last, I don't miss you every day. I don't miss the foul-smelling hands and clothes. I don't miss brushing my tongue, gargling mouthwash, and scrubbing my face hands and arms every time I want to kiss my lady. I don't miss doing the same shit to hide from my kids the fact I'm doing something I hope they never do. I don't miss going out in the cold. So, please stop sending me emails. I don't want to read them anymore. Cut it out with the embedding sexy pictures of yourself into movies and TV. Yeah, your sultry blue curls are enticing but I know what kind of baggage you bring with them. And please, stop sending your friends to stand outside and blow on me with your familiar perfume. I don't want to smell you anymore. Check back with me in six months if you want, but I suspect I'll feel the same. Besides. I have a new intimate friend now named Caffeine. Regards, Eric.