Open Letter to Gerdy

Dear Gerds,

Gertrude, I don't know how to tell you this, but something needs to be said. We've known each other for three, fantastic years now. You have taken me to countless significant places in my life. You've always been there for me; pointing me in the right direction, sticking by my side, and leading me home safely. You've been considered as one of my best friends, nay, even a family member. You know my address by heart circuit board. See, there I go, That's exactly it. You're a GPS. We can't be together anymore. Remember that chilly January night when you told be to "Turn right on Arthur Street in 150 feet", and I told you to *hehem* "Shut your whore mouth"? You have 512 Megabytes of memory. Of course you remember. But I remember too, and this is just one thing time has proved irreconcilable. That's why you have to go, Gerdy. You have to go far away. That's why I just searched for the most fuel-efficient route to the Atlantic Ocean. This is our last ride together. Maybe some shark will rip out your circuit board, just like you tore out my <3.

Teenage Driver