German

Dear German,

Guten Tag. I know I only just saw you this morning, but I thought this was important, and just couldn't wait until the next time we met.

Listen. You should sit down. Are you sitting down? Can you sit down, being intangible? Whatever. What I'm trying to say is, this may hurt a little.

I might as well just come out and say it. The truth is, German, that we just aren't a good fit. Nicht gut... fit. See? I don't even know how to say that. Don't get emotional. I'll acknowledge it was new and exciting at first. I had just ended a lengthy relationship with Japanese, and was looking for a friend. You were there. But that's the thing, German. I trusted you. How could you do this to me? Ich habe Angst, German. Ich habe Angst. 

When we started spending more and more time together, I knew something was wrong. We just weren't clicking. We're just too different. You love your complicated verb tenses. I love singing SchoolHouse Rock songs to remember English grammar. And you just kept getting me wrapped up in more and more complicated situations. For example, that chapter about geography and transportation. What was up with that? That was a bad scene. I was so uncomfortable, I even asked you if we could leave, but you ignored me and kept on canoodling with your friends. I kept on getting asked questions about like, some detective, or some blonde chick who hangs out on some rocks, I don't know, I had no idea what anyone was talking about. It might has well have been fucking Elvish, German. And you wondered why the car ride home was so tense. Well, now you know.

Not to mention the massive vocabulary bullshit you lay on me every couple of weeks. I can barely remember what you tried to tell me earlier that month, why are you testing my horrible short term memory like this, German? Have you been talking to Japanese? Did Japanese tell you about how I would sometimes slack off there, and go like, read a comic book instead of looking through vocabulary? I swear that's not what's happening here, German... you're just not my style.

And now comes the hard part. Look... don't think is easy for me, okay? I just... I know we already paid our joint rent for the apartment, so I'll give you until then, but after that, I really think you should move out. I'm sorry. Trust me, it won't be hard to find someone else. There are a lot of people who still love you, German. But you gotta get out. There have been good times, and bad times. Although honestly, I would say more bad than good. Like, 70% bad times, 30% good times. Whatever. Take care of yourself.

Also, I thought you should know that I'm swearing off foreign languages after this. You've driven me to bat for the other team, as it were. (The other team being... y'know, not foreign languages.)

With regret,

me.