Dear FS: Today marks seven years since the first time we met. Part of me dreaded this day coming because it used to mean so much to me. Each year was special and great because, I thought, I was with the man who I'd be with forever. Even that year when you built me up so bad for a "big surprise" and I thought you were going to propose and you got me a lousy Browns t-shirt instead.
I made it through okay. I didn't cry or feel sad or anything. I even remembered a few fine memories as the day went along. Like when I was sick as dog with the flu and told you not to come over because you'd catch it and you came anyway--with an electric blanket you'd bought just for me. That was probably one of the kindest, most thoughtful things you ever did for me. Back then, you (probably) truly loved me.
Anyway, I know you won't read this--because in spite of all your assurances I know you only went to the blog once or twice, when I asked you to--but I want you to know that I'm getting along okay. I'll never understand why we weren't worth it to you, but in retrospect I'd rather be alone and know that I am worth someone's while, even if currently that someone is just me. You may have cut me to ribbons, but I'm on the mend, and I know I'm going to make it. I'll never be the same, but I live in hope that I'll be better.
I have no sentimental wishes for you, sorry. I know that you will get exactly what you deserve in life, just like everybody else.
Sincerely, Your FS