A Breakup Letter From The Internet To You

Morgan Rock Loehr
Slackjaw
Published in
3 min readAug 10, 2015

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Dear You,

We need to talk. Can you please close that video of spaghetti-eating penguins? And, shut off your Spotify? And, stop Snapchatting about your Panera salad? And, put away your iPad, that Onion article can wait. Listen, you’re great and all, but I don’t think we should see each other anymore.

You’re too damn clingy. It’s a real turn off. A few years ago, we only saw each other at home, in the evenings and maybe on the weekends. Now, it’s CONSTANT.

I need some space. We talk all the time and it’s driving me crazy. You have no self-control — hitting me up at work, when you’re driving, taking the train, waiting in line, hell, even when you’re taking a shit. No couple needs to go to the bathroom together. That’s too much and very unhealthy.

Do you remember the old days when you called me from your landline? It was so sweet. You spent hours trying to get ahold of me. Then, when we did finally connect, you asked me about important world events, with only the occasional “Show Me Kathy Ireland Naked” requests. Now, you call me from the grocery store to see how much Kim Kardashian’s face transplant cost.

Life is a pearl of wisdom waiting for us to discover and I need to stimulate my mind and soul with that profundity. For christ’s sake, I understand quantum physics and you want to know how much Justin Bieber works out. She works out a lot. Let’s move on. Why don’t we talk about the mind-bending vastness of the cosmos? I hold scientific secrets that could demystify human existence and you call me from the gym to ask what Meek Mill is. Use your head a little, it’s an oatmeal company.

It’s more than just our conversational void, though. I’ve grown up more than you. I mean, you asked me where to buy ecstasy the other day. Come on! I’m past that stage of my life. I want to evolve, to become an intelligent, contributing member of society. You, however, seem completely satisfied Tweeting your groundbreaking thoughts on Donald Trump’s toupee. There’s more to life than barfing your every thought into my face, you know?

Don’t get me wrong. You’re great and there’s definitely maybe someone out there for you. You could go out with Movies or give Laser Tag a call. I know they’re both pretty lonely. Or, you could go to a bar. You may meet an actual human being without me directly in your face the whole time.

I care deeply about you, but I need out. I plan to take a Google blimp around the world. It’s best if you don’t try to to contact me.

Good luck with everything. And, before you ask, no, WebMd doesn’t list any cures for a “broken heart”.

Best Wishes,

Internet

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