Dear Heartbreak,

I suppose you might throw this away when you see the sender; then again, I suppose if this is being read, there are two possibilities: You have decided to read this to see if I have sent word to apologise, declare my undying love, and do some random act of untold insanity to earn your affection (again), or you did throw this, and some homeless bum or random passerby found this, if so then good day dear sir, madam, if you would be so kind, I'd like you to throw this away now. You might laugh at my dry humor, but the humor in my letter is opposite to the feelings quaking and thundering about in my chest. I wrote this letter to mention a thing or two and if you have the time, I'd like you to read this.

Madam, you do me wrong; I might not be able to spout sweet nothings in French, or good everyday ballads, but I do feel, and I know what is like to feel and what a person looks like when he/she feels, and you, Madam (with all due respect), do not feel. I recall this one afternoon in London, where I fancied I saw you with a random fellow who looked like some Spanish gardener, and in all my jealousy, I fled my important business and spent that lovely afternoon sulking in my bed chambers, wrapped in my finest dark silks with the curtains down and the doors locked, a bottle of vodka my sole companion. You're probably laughing your pretty little laugh at the past paragraph (unless of course, you were the latter bunch of readers, in which case, I demand you tear this letter right now). I remember that the following morning, you called on me, and as soon as I walked into the Drawing room you ran up to me (Pardon, sashayed more-like) and devoured me with all your womanly charms. Of course, I knew you were playing me, but I, like my Uncle Alvin would say, "turned a bloody blind eye" and allowed myself to be cuckolded in front of the entire country. But I had convinced myself, at that point, that I was unconditionally, irrevocably, and forever in love with you.

Bullocks, I was just drunk and high like most men that time.

I heard a lady tell me, last weekend actually, that you intended to marry me, but your intentions weren't purely out of devotion; matter of fact, I remember her distinctly mentioning that money played a rather large part in your shameless ploy. Now, at thirty, I still find myself unable to deny you entirely: your lovely long blonde hair, for I distinctly remember, it was fashion for women to wear their hair long, your curvy, petite figure, and your grass green eyes. You weren't outrageously pretty, just outrageously attractive, it was like staring at a green field, just so much green. Now, many women were pretty and many were interested in me, but for some foolish reason, I wanted you. You and your obsession for tea, bonnets, and cats. I would fantasise your being here in my arms when you weren't and your never leaving when you were, it was a silly mind trap that you led me into--albeit, I willingly, and idiotically followed. That one time I let you go to that vacation to...Paris, was it? I nearly died thinking about you, and it took all my willpower not to go there and spend the night with you.Also, I had this childish feeling that if I did go, I wouldn't find you, or worse, I would, but with someone else.

Another thing I would like to point out, is that you forgot Poor Celine's birthday--or perhaps you didn't and you didn't go perchance you might see me, this shameless self promotion is not out of self love, but out of deep loathe, if that is true, you're more cowardly than I thought, missing a poor child's birthday to avoid the poor bard inside me who wants to spout sonnets in your name.

I shall have to go now, but a last thing I have to point out, is that you broke my heart, you cow! And I shall never forgive you--and your Spanish Gardener who I think I saw in Hampshire last Friday.

Much (Hopefully forgotten) love,
Sir William Fielding


So this is one of the first things I've ever written.

Like. Ever.

It was for an English assignment and my "word that simply has to be there" was 'Spanish Gardener' and this came out D.