We Ain’t Cool No More

Welcome to another edition of Light Fridays

Dear Gas Prices,
I guess there is no easy way to say this.  Sigh.  Where do I start?  When I first met you, you were so cool and fine as hell.  I mean like super sexy.  Man, I remember the first time I had to pump gas for my own use, you were $0.92 per gallon.  Woooweee.  You and I together were unstoppable.  We would be all over the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex.  Whenever you got low, I eagerly went to find some more of you.  A measly $10 was not going to come between me and you.  I would volunteer to pick up my friends, take them wherever they needed to go, and wouldn’t dare ask for gas money because they too were worth a few dollars’ worth of gas.  Sometimes, friends would sneak and leave $5 in the console.  I would be elated because that meant 5 whole gallons worth of gas.  I thought it would be blissful forever.
Then you started thinking I was taking you for granted.  You said I only hit you up when I need you.  I guess I never said thank you.  I figured you knew I appreciated you staying in shape, keep them numbers down.  I wish I would have said something before now.  But now here we are, and I am no longer find you remotely attractive.  You’ve let yourself go.  I am actually disgusted whenever I see you; so much so I just turn away when I am using you that way I don’t have to face how much you jacked me for until the last possible second.  Then I stare at my receipt full of regret and remorse wondering how in the hell we got here.
I know I need you. But I wrote this letter so you know we’re not cool anymore. Also, please stop with the automated pleasantries, it only annoys me further. Thanks.
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