A Modest Proposal, Quite
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Darling Greg, I do not understand many things. You have made that fact quite clear. What you are mistaken on are the things on which I do know. This, my conclusions hold, will never be understood by you. I could assume reasons why you do not wish, or do not appear to be willing to face what has become, which I will emphasize now, is nothing I intend to take part in any longer. But, my energy has long since worn thin on this topic, and my virtue would ultimately follow. "How could (I) vainly make a show of authority, just indulge in self-esteem, showing (my) own ugliness? If (I) act mistakenly to begin with, even a hundred good things can not cover it up in the end"(Master Foyan Yuan). So, I apologize if the above suggests selfishness. Allow me to replenish my cause. I do not mind that you choose to avoid my phone calls. I do not mind that meeting face to face seems all the more impossible as the days progress. I do not mind that you appear to be doing these things conscientiously or seemingly refuse to face what has become of this, in person. Perhaps you have realized what I speak of, perhaps you will never truly understand. It is not my choice and not my concern, oh, but if it were. As a human being to another, there are certain inalienable duties, I believe, we must uphold for the greater good of the community. I will not fool myself. I request that you resist the urge yourself. Perhaps you will take the liberty of fulfilling a certain inalienable duty and drop my new-found belongings at the radio station, by chance, on the way to band practice on Wednesday. If this task presented, unwillingly upon you, is too treacherous, regardless of the influences (spite, unconcern), then alternative arrangements will be addressed. This is how it is, how it was, and how it always will be. (Kurt Vonnegut) I apologize if this e-mail is all too familiarly marked with "high school immaturity". If I had known what an utter disgust it would bring about I would have avoided you from the moment we met. My deepest condolences. Yours Truly, Liz Streaker
