My breakup letter to my one true love…. Golf

by Will Weathersby

To my dearest Golf, Your soft, beautifully cut grass, the glisten of your iron heads, I love it all. The many shades of your white balls, those clicking noises your clubs make in the bag while walking around. Golf, I love you... ...which is what makes this harder than anything I’ve ever done.I think it's time we go separate ways.Ugh, I already miss your warm embrace on a Sunday morning. Or the times when I polish you...how can it look so good, but then end up making me feel so bad? Golf, it’s not you, it’s me…let me explain. There is nothing more glorious than that feeling when you step up to the tee box, but also nothing more crushing than sending you into the trees far right. I’m just tired of not getting any better. Is my head lifting? Are my feet not set correctly? Damn you golf, why do you hurt so good?It’s just time I come to terms with myself…Yes, I love hitting your expensive balls, but I am not crazy about looking for you in the woods for 20 minutes. Why Golf, why? Was it fate that you chose me? A blessing or a curse?Do you like when I spit out blasphemies on your sacred greens? Is it funny when I three-putt for a triple? Golf you’re a cruel mistress, but it’s time for me to move on now.Before I go, let me tell you this…I will never forget you.Sincerely,MeP.S. - one more round before I go?