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Opinion: It’s Kinda Fucked up That You Got a Restraining Order Just Because I Named My Chainsaw After You

You’ve really crossed the line this time. Consider my feelings officially hurt. A restraining order?!? Never in my life have I been so insulted.

All I did was name my sweet, sweet new 24” ECHO CS 590 chainsaw after you, and mail a cute postcard to you with each individual letter cut out from different magazines. If anything, you should be honored.

I only name my dearest implements after my favorite people in the world. So what if we “aren’t that close” or “haven’t technically ever met”? I knew from the moment I saw you get a McChicken at the McDonalds off the interstate that we had something special. The following hours watching you only confirmed this further.

Maybe it’s time for you to start learning some gratitude exercises. Do you keep a journal? I do, and it has changed my life. The only downside is that I get lightheaded after refilling the pen with my own blood repeatedly. Still, I believe it has made me a more mindful person and better active listener.

I’m not the one being unreasonable here. Did you ever think that it may be a bit narcissistic to assume that my chainsaw is named after you specifically? Just because it has the same exact name and social security number carved into the blade doesn’t mean everything is about you. There could be a million Marquees Keith Dawson III’s running around Slope County, North Dakota.

Do you know how much this is going to ruin my daily routine? Now that I can’t be within 100 yards of you, how am I going to dip my tongue in your oat milk while you sleep? How am I going to sniff the back of your driver’s seat’s headrest? My whole life is upended just because you think the world revolves around you.

I’m not even supposed to be sending you this letter. But I just can’t keep my feelings to myself. You are toxic. My therapist thinks you may be projecting your own messed up issues onto me. Story of my life.