I know it's been a while, but I still think about you - every day.
Adopting a vegetarian, low-carb diet was one of the hardest decisions I've ever made, and I want you to know that it wasn't your fault. Well, it kind of was. But you weren't the only culprit - pasta and chocolate are to blame as well. And bread - especially bread.
I do miss you, but things are better this way. My heart and taste buds may love you, but my waistline does not. I had to make a choice, and I hope that you're doing well.
I know that you're doing fine. I know you get plenty of attention. I'm not worried about that. But I don't want you to think you were the only reason for my decision. I know you probably feel betrayed. I mean, after all, it must not feel good to be rejected by an Italian.
I can't remember the first time we met, and I can't remember the last, but I do remember your steaming sauce and delectable cheese, perfectly burnt so that you have a little bit of brown on top, but not too much. Pure perfection.
Sometimes I see you and pass by. I can't stand to look at you. I'm not strong enough. Don't take it personally.
I'm sure I will be able to see you every now and then. Maybe a couple times a month, maybe every other week. I'm sure we can figure something out. But things can't be the way they were. My figure won't allow it. I wish it didn't have to be this way, but I'm just one of those people who can't enjoy your presence every day or even every week.
I wish you the best.