Break-up letter to my Eng Comp Course

                I've always been the kind of person that was so scared of hurting someone's feeling that I would rather lie to them than tell them the truth and hurt them.  But after the last time, I promised myself it wouldnt happen again. You mean too much to me to string you along and let you figure things out for yourself, while all the while the subtle emotion damage had already taken place.  And as much as this hurts, I think it's for the best for the both of us that I say this.
         Dearest class, the past few months have been great.  I never thought that a college english course could make me feel the way you have.  Sure, there were some bad times in there, but we always managed to pull through them together.  You were always there when I needed you, even when I wasn't always as emotionally available as you might have needed me to be.  It was like you were the piece of the puzzle I was always missing, everything you lacked I filled in, and vice-versa.  And, of course, the sex was fantastic. 
         Furthermore, after my last semester, I doubted ever being able to get involved in academics again.  I thought that Western Civ. was the end of the line when it came to love and learning, to any human contact beyond mundane “hellos” and “how's the weathers,” you know, the same trite bullshit we encounter SO MANY TIMES during the day.  You were something tangible, something real.  In every lesson, every word, every page of your syllabus, I found a piece of me that was lost a long time ago.  I believe that the feeling I get when I'm studying your pages is so raw, so powerful, that it supercedes my ability to process it mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.  So needless to say, sweet class, after all we've been through, I still love you. But, sometimes even lovers (and students) need space.
         Everything above is true, and I mean every word of it with every fiber of my being.  Every inch of me begs you to believe it, to understand why this can never be, why WE can never be.  And all of me hopes that this will not hurt you.  But we're both smart enough to know that's just wishful thinking.
         Because even though my love for you is all encompassing, is never-ending, is eternal, I can't bear the thought of me holding you back, limiting what you can do and who you can become as an undergrad survey course.  I just can't face another withdrawal without refund. Maybe I'm just sick, and maybe it shows in my every action and you just don't see it anymore, don't see past my false bravado and stoic tendencies. But Class, I can assure you that if you stay with me, you'll start to see it.  And if my worst fears come true, you will start to become it. You'll find that you never loved me, dearest Class, you just loved the idea of us.  It wasn't me you fell in love with, it was my college student alter-ego that you adored.  It was me forcing myself to act like I think a college student should act, and in turn becoming something I am not.  Point is, Class, I have no idea how to be what you want me to be.  I guess, in life, I deserve an F. 
         You will miss the opportunity to try and fix me, the chance to repair a broken machine, more than you will miss the real me.  But some people are destined to be broken, to be cancers in the world, infecting everyone that gets too close.  And the last thing I want to see is for you, oh beautiful class, to become the next patient.
         You see Class, I have this history of putting the best of me out there, and only letting those around me see the quiet, reserved, model citizen part of me.  But the truth is that deep down, there is a radical, an extremist in thought, emotion and action, with no sense of moderation.  My mind swings either one way or the other with no chance of compromise.  I'm sure you've seen this in certain aspects of our life, like the way I can't stop drinking until I'm so drunk that I start insulting your curriculum.  Or how when I get a paycheck, I'll either save it all and starve myself that week or spend every penny on booze and drugs, instead of buying the required textbooks I need to be a success in English 112, section 20L.  I dropped my classes last semester to get high every day; I couldn't sit through class sweating my ass off, hot one minute and cold the next, fighting the urge to vomit.  I totalled both my own car AND my mom's car...  When will you see?  What will it take to prove what I told you when we FIRST reviewing your syllabus:  That the classes I take only end up getting hurt?? 
         I want to say I told you so, as if that would excuse my action.  But it won't nothing will.  And yet, you still love me unconditionally.  You used to ask:  When will you see you like I do?  Well, class, the only way that can happen is if I un-enroll.  Only then can I figure out exactly who I am and what courses I want to take.  'Cause right now, those two things can't coincide.
         So, in short, please let me drop out with a tuition refund, and know that I'll always keep you in my thoughts, from the moment I wake up to the second I fall asleep. 
         
         “If you love me enough to stay, then please love me enough to stay away.” -Ramshackle Glory

                                                                                                                          --Michael