How are you?
I hope all is well.
I am writing to you today because I need to ask you something. A question that has been eating away at me for quite some time now.
When will this stop?
Please make it stop.
Can you make it stop?
I am afraid that it won't stop. I am afraid that it might be too late now.
Because I hear him calling to you twenty times a day. And I don't listen to the radio. And I don't watch the TV. I rarely go to the grocery store and I get my restaurant food to go. Still I hear him calling to you across the miles. A thousand of them, he says. Picturing you smiling and dancing and finally living in the middle of Times Square. Though I have never met you, Delilah, I can almost see your face myself. You ARE beautiful. And though the words that he uses to express this are often hackneyed and corny, I can still tell that he means it. He really does. And now like a ghost, you haunt my every waking hour. Delilah. While I am washing the dishes. Delilah. While I am doing the laundry. Do you think maybe you could just pick up the phone and you know, just give him a call? I know he's waiting for one. Just say hello. Help him get his shit together. And if you don't feel the same, please, PLEASE let him know. Cause now it's affecting MY life. A hit single is one thing, but this is getting ridiculous. Please Delilah. For me. For my kids. I need back the serenity I once knew. You are making my life unmanageable. I can't take it anymore.
Thank you for your concern in this matter. Really. Thanks. Good luck with school. And take care of yourself okay? You have obviously been through a lot here.