I came across this post on Mother Jones‘ website this morning, and for some reason it really stopped me in my tracks.
In 1947, Jacqueline Lee Bouvier (John F. Kennedy’s future wife) dropped the dreaded hammer on a boyfriend she had during high school. The ‘Dear John’ letter she wrote to him is eloquent, yet dry. But most jarring is the cold, logical necessity and creativity of its message.
I’ve always thought of being in love as being willing to do anything for the other person—starve to buy them bread and not mind living in Siberia with them—and I’ve always thought that every minute away from them would be hell—so looking at it that [way] I guess I’m not in love with you.