Regretfully yours,

Dear Jim,

I don’t understand how you have developed such a different view of reality over the years we’ve been together.  How is it that you recount the same occurrence with such a different slant?   How is it that you don’t even remember that I was there when telling that story?

I can’t fight this anymore.  Your reality no longer matches mine.  I guess this is what they mean when they say “we grew apart.”

Have the stories your way.  I have taken the job in St. Paul and leave on Friday.  I hope someday when you look back you’ll see that believing something is real doesn’t make it so.  I can’t fix this, and I can’t carry it with me anymore.  The pain is not mine if you lay your hand on the hot stove thinking it is a rock wall.

Regretfully yours,

Carrie

 

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