My dear Frenemy,

I never thought it would come to a point where I write a letter to you. But life works weirdly, doesn't it?

You must also understand how much crisis I went through before I started writing this letter to you. It took countless sleepless nights and endless debates with myself to gather enough courage to confront this.

Thanks to you, I have acquired a lovely collection of white hair without a struggle.

And let's not forget the constant "What ifs" that bring free stress into my life instead of a stress-free life.

When I'm buying gifts for friends, you're nowhere to be found. I splurge without a second thought because their happiness is all that matters. No price is too high, and no gift is too extravagant.

However, when it comes to buying something for myself, you suddenly become the most frugal accountant in the world.

A $3 top becomes a monumental decision, a financial crisis waiting to happen. I spend hours deliberating over whether I need it, whether it's worth the "exorbitant" price, and whether I'll regret it for the rest of my life.

It's like you're trying to win an Oscar for "Most Creative Excuse to Avoid Spending Money."

And then there's the culinary masterpiece you help me create. Our debates on ordering food always end in a thrilling conclusion: cooking a meal so tasteless, that even my neighbor's dog won't give it a second sniff. 

I never signed up for this package in my life, yet here I am getting a subscription to your services without paying a dime. I wonder when this subscription will expire, but I guess maybe not soon.

However, I think it's time for me to put my foot down. You have been my constant companion and made my life a roller coaster. I'm quite sick of this right now and need a break—a break from your help with every decision I take.

I hope you don't take this letter as an invitation to do a scientific analysis of why I'm breaking up with you. The answer is simple: I don't like you.

And here's the thought: Could you please stop thinking that danger is lurking around every corner? You seem to forget that you are the real danger. 

Your (somewhat) sanely,

Moon