a not-so-sad goodbye

now playing: the silence that follows the shutoff of the tv


today, i cut the cord.

as of this moment, i stand and hold my hand up to you and say, no more.


i am setting myself free of the perpetual heartache, the constant sense of tension brought about by wondering when the shoe will fall...for history has proven to me that it's not a matter of if, but when.


as of right now, i am a red sox fan no more.


it was so easy, early on...you were easy to fall for. the lovable underdogs, constantly railing against the evil empire - everyone loves a winner, but everyone's heart breaks for a loser, and i couldn't help but take up your cause.

the yankees were like the cute cheerleader...the homecoming queen...the most popular girl in school. you, boston, were the really smart, cute band geek that i couldn't resist being attracted to. i knew that you were something special, but you couldn't possibly compare to the homecoming queen in the eyes of the rest of the class.

so i allowed myself to be taken in by your rough-around-the-edges charm...and i've regretted it ever since.

you wasted no time going from a pleasant pastime to an addiction - a sorry-assed codependent relationship that was completely one-sided. no matter how faithful i was, you always let me down. you'd fuck up, and then you'd be back on my doorstep, saying all the things a spurned lover normally says in those situations....

"look, i've changed. i've seen that i haven't been what i should've been. look, i even went out and brought in schilling and keith foulke! i even cut nomar's non-productive ass loose, just to make you happy! it can be better than it was, i promise!"

and i fell for it. again.

you became like a drug to me, impossible to justify to myself, and just as hard to turn my back on.

but, like any addict who eventually beats their disease, i think that tonight you've given me the reason i need to say no to you.

tonight was the night you were supposed to make it all right. you were home, you'd taken a beating the first two games, but you were playing against a pitcher whom you'd ravaged in a regular season game that seemed like it was no more than half an hour ago...everything seemed to be in place. things were gonna turn around, i could hear you saying. we're gonna fix this.


when i turned off the tv in disgust, the score was 19-8.

i will not wait up to see what the final is, for i honestly don't care anymore.


there will be no more wasted hours in front of the tv watching you set me up to knock me down again, no more planning my evenings to make time to share with you. there are far too many other things that need and deserve my attention, and you've proven over and over again that you're simply not worthy.

i will not piss away my valuable time on a one-sided relationship.



so goodbye, boston red sox. and fuck you.


seriously, Fuck You.