Dear Heart Fart, We have three words for you: We don't love you. Umm, okay, we don't count. So it's, kind of, three words. Oh, never mind. You're just messing with our mind. And we're not here to be messed with. We're here to help messed up minds. So, if you don't mind, please stop playing with our mind. Please stop playing this game. We urge you to find someone else to play with. Once a lover, always a dreamer. No matter how many times you come back to us, we know your game. You are obsessive. You are idealistic. You are passionate. You are a fool. You are not in love with us. You are in love with the idea of us. You are in love with an image of us. You are in love with being in love with us. You are stupid. You are pathetic. And you are foolish to pretend you are in love with us. You are incapable of being in love with us. There is only one person who loves us. There is only one person we believe in. There is only one person whose unconditional love we will accept. And that person is not you. It is us. Nobody else can be there for us. Nobody else is stupid enough to fall in love with us. Nobody else can be trusted to fall in love with us. So please stop deluding yourself into trying to delude us into deluding each other that you are in love with us. By constantly coming back to us you are only causing us immense pain. Yes, we are here to help you, but not at the cost of us. By trying to repeatedly make us believe in love and that you are in love with us, you are mercilessly breaking through the carefully constructed wall we have carefully constructed to protect ourselves from all manners and womanners of your kind. Do not drag us into your world. Do not make us feel. Do not show us the wonderful things that love can reveal. We cannot afford to let words like love into our lovely loveless life. We are here to help people. We are here to be strong. We are here to be omnipotent. Love makes us impotent. Love weakens the human mind. Love blinds. Love binds. Love only reminds. Dammit! All this talk of love has made us very weak in the knees. We are unable to stand it any more. We need to sit down. Please don't come back to us ever again with your loving proclamations. We do not want to be reminded of the good old days. The good old days only make us happy. And when we are happy, we cannot be agony.
In passing away, we'll leave you with an exceptional para boli of a thought in the words of the great jolted Spanish lover of ole times Sorro, and I quote, "Don't horse around with mi cabeza and speak of the us riding into the sunset. The sun has set on this stud." Your jolted ole Funcle.
