War is what it’s come to.

Letter to myself:

Dear, myself

Ever since I was young, you were there. Through 3 moves and 3 different states around the country, you’ve always been there to help me numb my life long loneliness. But what have you built? Have you strengthened my relationship with God? Have you put me through welding school? Have you gotten me a job? Have you done anything constructive? No. You have distracted me from what’s truly important in my life by telling me it won’t take long and it will help numb the pain. Telling me that porn is something all guys do and it’s normal. That I only look at this stuff because I’m 21 and alone, never had a relationship, and that nobody loves me. Lies, all of them. I would rather stay lonely my whole life than give in to you anymore.

So I declare war on you, Me. If war is what it will take to rid me of you, let the blood sling to every corner of the earth. Because you are nothing but loneliness itself. I am not alone. You are. I’m ending this once and for all. I want to look my future wife in the eyes and tell her the story of how I overcame the temptations of the world, how I overcame you. I want to give her the love she deserves, the love only God can give. And you are not of God. You are of the world and I want nothing to do with you.

Goodbye, and thanks for all the fish, you Bum.

Letter from my sex addict:

Dear, Me,

You know all to well how you always give in to me at the slightest picture or even written words. I’m no longer the little lion cub in the closet, ready to play when you are, you are now at my will. If I choose to have some fun, you crumble and tell yourself to ask for forgiveness. When commercial companies no longer use beautiful women to advertise their products, you might have a shot at getting rid of me. You’ll still fail. You always do.

You’ve tired going one week without masturbating and look at how well that went. Barely made it 3 days. Pathetic. This proves that I am stronger than you are, my resolve is preeminent. Yours is feeble and paltry by nature. How can you hope to get rid of me when you can’t even find a girl that won’t look at you like you’re a decrepit lamp. Face it, you need me to stay sane, you need me to help you cope.

So go ahead. Try. I’ll be right here, enjoying watching you suffer, waiting for you to come crawling back to me the next time a girl blows you off like a piece of gum on her shoe.