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Dear Open Letter,

I’m not sure when this phenomenon started or when you started to get really popular. It was probably around that time when Beyonce decided to grab her construction paper and crayons when she wrote her first letter to Mrs. Obama. I’m sorry to say, that we need to break up. And it’s not you, but it has been the fact that everyone has abused you in 2012, and it’s time we part ways. And it’s time you get some well-deserved help.

Bloggers on the interwebs have been poppin’ you like Mollys, and, unfortunately, you lost your luster. You got uber-whiny and judgmental to any and everyone that could read you. After a while, I could only shake my head and wonder where things went wrong.

Remember when letters used to be something private? It was something that we would put in an envelope and wait with anticipation for the person on the other end to read. Or what about when we used to write letters to our pen pals in grade school, and we couldn’t wait to get that crumpled up piece of origami six months later from our “friend” four thousand miles away?

Instead we are treating you like the Mrs. Obama of templates and penning letters to our natural hair, Ochocinco’s headbutts, Lebron’s hairline, and our six-year-old selves for the whole world to see.

You think Chris Brown was offended by an open letter written to him by a Billboard.com music writer? Do you think he even read it?

So far this year (and we’re only four days in), there have already been numerous open letters to Obama, NBA Commissioner David Stern, Kim Kardashian and her pregnancy and music execs.

I’m trying not to talk to you like the h*e we have made you out to be, but do you see why it’s time to go? More harm than good has been done, and, now, Beyonce has a Staples rewards card. This. Must. End.

I have a couple of solutions for 2013: maybe give out your email address so people know where to reach you? If you don’t have one, might I suggest, open.letters@gmail.com. Or maybe you can try two tin cans on the ends of a string. One for you and one for the other person who has so much to say. The art of conversation is lost, anyway, so let’s bring that back.

Open letters, I must close the door and not look back. I signed you up for rehab at Promises. You have a room right in between DMX and Lindsay Lohan. I’m sure once you get out, you’ll be stronger and more confident than ever. And maybe then, you’ll keep things to yourself.

Talk to you never again,

Ariel Cherie

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