Dear Ill-Fitting Sweater,
I am writing to notify you that as of now, I am terminating our relationship.
Let me clarify. We’ve been done for years, Ill-Fitting Sweater. I haven’t been very clear about it, and that’s my own fault . I undestand that it’s hard for you to know that it’s over when I keep coming back to you. It’s hard not to. You’re so easy to be with! You never asked anything of me. You were simple and undemanding and so…so comfortable. All you wanted was to be near me.
But seriously, it was bad for the both of us. I felt lost when I was with you, Ill-Fitting Sweater. I felt ugly inside. The longer I was with you, the more I realized you just weren’t what I wanted anymore. You were constantly droopy. You slouched. I can’t remember you complimenting me, or flattering me, not once. You never made me feel pretty.
And the whole time I was with you, I could see how other girls felt about their shirts. There was such a connection there. They looked so beautiful together. And you and I…we never had that. I think, ultimately, I wore you because I knew that I could, and I was scared of trying something different. And so I ended it.
Somehow, though, I kept coming back to you, and sweaters just like you.
I can’t help it. It’s just what I’m attracted to. I’m in a store, I look around, and I see a shapeless baggy mess of a knitted top, and I think yeah, that’s where I want to be. I want in on some of that. And besides, I already had a rapport with you. You were green. I liked green. You were soft. I liked soft. You were so wonderfully, lovably familiar that I didn’t have to face an unexpected self in the mirror when I put you on (not that I could see any real semblance of my body when I wore you.)
No matter how many times I ended it, swore to myself that I’d never put you on again, I would always come back and spend the day feeling ugly and…unambitious. It wasn’t fair to us. Somewhere there was a fitted blouse waiting for me, and you were headed towards a bright future as somebody’s dustrag.
So this is it, Ill-Fitting Sweater. I swear this is final. You are going to the Goodwill, and I am going to get that sexy wrap top that I’ve been eyeing. I’ m ready for a healthy shirt that makes me feel good about myself, and you aren’t going to stand in my way anymore.
We’ll always have highschool.