Dear Reckless Behavior,
I see you creeping around on the outskirts of my life, trying to make me dig my hole deeper and deeper. But I just want to tell you that we're done. I'm breaking up with you because you're not healthy. And though you feel good while in the moment, you have no long-term positive affects.
I drank the beers, I sent the texts, I chose only to listen to friends who told me what I wanted to hear. But from here on out, I'm going to try harder.
I'm going to try and make the decisions that let me feel better not just tomorrow, but next week and next year. I'm only going to spend time with the people who want to keep spending time with me a year from now. Because I deserve the full-attention. I deserve a nicer bottle of wine. I deserve a meal that is paid for by someone other than me and isn't one that we eat in my living room.
I still think you're fun, Reckless Behavior. I like that you lead to weekends of stories and laughter. I like the way you make me feel right before I go to sleep.
But I'm not sure if you're the best thing to wake up next to in the morning. And well, someone should put a stop to your madness.
I'm not saying I won't you miss you from time to time. I love the thrill of it all. The rush I get when you enter the room and the uncertainty I feel just as you start to slip out. You're been addicting since the mid-2000s. I've followed your road from time to time and we've shared some memorable moments.
But it's about time I stop being lured by your jolly good times and buckle down and ignore the devil over my shoulder.
We're done, reckless behavior. And I would appreciate it if you finally understood and walked away quietly from the door.