I think we both know what this is about. I don't pay much attention to you, and I think you're ok with that. However, I thought maybe I had misjudged you. Perhaps you and I could coexist. Not a friendship, per se, but some kind of mutual agreement where we can share a space. I might even allow you into my home. Perhaps if I just gave you a chance, I could change my thinking and we could bury the hatchet once and for all.
I was so so wrong about that. I was stupid to think we could possibly be civil to one another, but I do have one request that I ask you fulfill in exchange for a satisfying silence from me: I write this letter to ask you to kindlly stop giving me a higher and higher number every time I visit you.
I won't come around often, and you can start to gradually slide back into a digit that doesn't make me hyperventilate when I do visit. Deal? Please?
Ow. Get off me. Why do you weigh so damned much?
You have no heart.