cringe culture is dead lol

Monologue

Dear asshole,
This is my goodbye letter to you. I'm sick of being with you. Remember when it was fun?
It was the summer of 2002. Sun was shining bright, too bright. I was just an innocent girl, 17 and about to go to college. Then you came. Instant attraction. You handed me an ice cold bottle of champagne, with the words: "To the summer." Before I could blink, you were pouring it into two chic glasses. You didn't seem to mind that everyone could see us drinking alcohol, even though we were underage. After three glasses, you took me to a hotel room, where you gave me whiskey. I thought it was disgusting, but I still drank it. For you. Four years prior, I became interested in the effects of alcohol, so I knew I had to drink water to avoid a hangover the next morning. You stood up from the bed and entered the bathroom, coming back with a water bottle filled halfway. You gave it to me, saying it was water. I didn't know you just gave me vodka. I went to sleep and woke up 6 hours later, still wasted. Two days later, I was still drunk. We spent the entire summer together, and found out we were accepted into the same college. Those years felt like endless summer.

Summer 2006, that was when you proposed to me. I immediately said "yes", of course. We were happy. Our wedding had a white theme, because that was your favorite color. Our wedding cake was French Vanilla. I wanted chocolate, but you said it wouldn't fit with the white theme. When I turned 16, I got French Vanilla. It was horrible, but I never told you. Our wedding was still beautiful. Summer never ended in our minds. We went to Puerto Rico for our honeymoon, because I had an Abuela there. You booked a hotel, to look back on the night we met. We drank lots of wine, and when I wanted to go to sleep, you handed me a bottle of vodka. That was funny, I liked that. We spent all of our time exploring the city and eating piragua. That was one of the last positive memories we made.

Autumn 2007, we rented an apartment. The leaves started falling down and getting different colors. Around this time I started expressing interest in opening a corner store. I was expecting you to support me, and help me pursue that. After all, you didn't have a proper job, and we could barely afford to pay our bills. But little did I know, you had started drinking. You were drunk and irrational, and you freaked out. It's all a blur, I don't even remember why you didn't want to help me. All I know is, you threw a vase at me. I dodged it, but I did cry and step in one of the broken pieces later.

Winter 2008. Snow began falling down and it became colder outside. Our marriage was a wreck, you were an alcoholic and controlling of what I did. My clothes, hair, decisions. Sometimes you hit me. I was damaged and hurt. That's when I stopped loving you. That was when winter came and summer forgot me. Then, when it was freezing, a circus wagon drove along. They were looking for employees, and that was when you went outside for the first time in 6 months. The snow crunched under your bare feet, and I ran after you, holding your shoes in one hand and your coat in the other. You stopped for five seconds, put on your shoes and jacket, and kept on running. When you finally catched up, the ringmaster told us to get our bags and jump on the wagon, so he could see if you were good enough. You climbed up onto the wagon, and I had to go back to our house to get our stuff. When I came back, you had already found somewhere to sit, and I was forced to stand. Finally, we arrived and after a day of setting everything up, the ringmaster hired you. For some reason he also hired me as your assistant. That didn't really help our dynamic, of course.

Spring 2013, he came. That clown. An optimistic, idealistic, naive clown. Out liked him from the start, and he changed you. You became... kinder. My alcoholic, abusive husband changed. But not necessarily for the better. All of your attention turned to him. You forgot about me as your wife. My alcoholic, abusive husband turned into my abusive, neglectful husband. Then, I became bitter. I changed too. From a sweet, submissive wife, to a hard, emotional bitch. Everything was taken from me, so I tried to get it back. And the arguments started again. But now, they were about the clown. Life changed, and I dreamed of returning to PR. 

Summer 2016, I got a job as a cashier. I snuck out and earned money to escape. You didn't know, you could never know. But I saw something happening. Slow, but still there. There were financial problems coming up, and you were about to lose most of your materials. I didn't know if I was supposed to feel sorry or scared. Either way, it was not good. Things were horrible, and I tried to find someone to turn to, but no one was there.

Autumn 2017, right now. Times are tough. You lost your lions, and now you're a knife thrower. Of course, I'm the target AND you suck at it. But I made 2.000 dollars wth my side job, and I used some of it to buy lottery tickets. I'm lucky enough to have won. 96.000 is what I have now. Enough to buy a plane ticket to fly to PR and open a store. So, I'm getting a divorce. I'm moving in with my Abuela, opening a bodega in a barrio. And I'll eat piragua, and it'll taste so much better because I can choose which flavor I want, instead of you. I'll go to the salon, and it'll look so much better because I can choose which hairstyle I want. Happiness will finally come my way, and I'll be happy. Without you. I'm leaving tomorrow. Adios, bitch!

-V