It’s an open letter from one partner to another. Perhaps a parent to their children, or a friend to a friend. It’s all the things more important than the things we chose to love.
Please allow me to explain all the things more important than you, my love.
Hopefully, this explains why I’ve neglected what’s supposed to be so important.
First, there’s Facebook. This is important business. All of my “friends” post things all day long. How will I ever know what they are doing if I don’t browse at different intervals throughout the day? Forget that I’ll never make it through every update, it doesn’t matter. I’m doing my best to get through these. How are you feeling? Oops, hold on, new notification.
My work is so important. I’m building an empire, but doing it for us. That is if there’s any us remaining by the time I never get done chasing my work. Just hold on tight. One, more, thing…
Of course, I’ve got to look at my tweets. There’s an endless amount of hilarity and words. What else can we do with only 140 characters? Look at all my followers. Look at all I’m following. How else will I ever keep up with 300 celebrities and people who’ll mean very little to me because I’ll never actually know them? Which leads to my next point.
I don’t remember your favorite color, but I can recite all who are getting a divorce. Not to mention the new tattoo that the star of my favorite show just got. Yes, I have an endless amount of celebrity info for when it’s got to save our relationship someday. Just try me.
What I want. Because, who cares what you want? I mean, I’ll say I do care from time to time, but my interests are always at heart. What can you do for me? What can I do for me? There are so many things that I want…
My phone. The person on the other end will never forgive me if I don’t respond to their text or call right away. I mean, they’ll never actually know that I ignored them to continue our conversation, but it’s still really important to give them my attention this instant. What would I do if they left a voicemail?
This game. I guess we could spend time together playing a multiplayer game, but I’ve got ten levels left of Candy Crush before I hit my goal. Isn’t there a rule that says once I’ve defeated Candy Crush the world is good?
My love, I’m sorry if you’ve felt neglected, but you see my agenda.
I’ll do my best to apologize and hope that my words heal you for just long enough. My actions, however, have to stay with what’s most important above.