I don't know how to break this to you. I've been wrestling with my thoughts all day and can't bear it any longer. You see, I've not been completely honest with you. I'm nothing but a dirty, rotten user.
Right now I have nothing good to say to help brighten your day or bring a smile to your beautiful face. I don't plan on taking the time to ask how you are and this is probably the first time I've ever shown you any sort of respect. I write purely out of selfish, boredom-alleviating reasons, and to offer myself a means of escape from my monotonous task of mailing out House of Brothers EP promo CDs, which I have been doing for the best part of three hours now. It's not that I don't love you, because I do, in my own special way, it's just that I fear that this is all you will ever be to me. Someone I only turn to you in these such times, and not, as I should, to dedicate any true amount of care or affection towards you. You will never be anything more than a bit on the side. An escape. A whim.
I'm sorry you had to find out this way. It's not you, it's me.