It's me, Cleveland. I don't want to dance around the point of this letter, so I'll just say it: I think we need a break.
Now, now, don't get too upset. I'm not thinking anything near permanent and, deep in my heart, I truly believe we can work things out and live a long, happy, prosperous life together.
However, you've changed. I barely recognize you lately. The way you've acted recently—in the past week, to be specific—simply isn't you. You don't have the desire, passion, or vigor for our relationship that I've become so accustomed to viewing as a constant.
It's not me, it's you.
We've known each other for a long time, LeBron. It's been a beautiful kinship ever since things got serious between us seven years ago. In fact, I think we've created one of the most successful, exciting, and impressive partnerships around. We've truly become the envy of nearly all our peers.
But come on, LeBron! It's been seven years since we've been official! How many more times will I have to be tricked into thinking you're about to give me the ring I deserve only to later find out that you don't have what it takes to make that kind of commitment?
And although I hate to say this, but Kobe and Dwyane had no problem taking their relationships with their cities to the next level, why can't you do the same?
Every time I think we have a Shot at achieving that happiness, something Drives us apart just a little more until we get where we are now: on the verge of Fumbling this whole thing.
While I'm sincerely worried about you, I don't think your friends are helping much in the situation, either. Don't get me wrong; I love the guys you hang out with and I think they can help you mature into being what I need you to be, but I think most of them need to come to a stern realization on how crucial an element they are in our relationship.
What's frustrating about that last point is that I don't have any suggestions or ideas on how it can be remedied. It's just going to have to be part of the soul-searching and contemplation on what's important in your life while we work through this little hiatus.
All I want is for us to work. I need you. I think you need me.
But I miss seeing the real "you." The enthusiastic, devoted you. The you who became so obsessive about us, it made you the successful, iconic person you are.
I'm worried about you, LeBron. I want you to be OK and I want us to be happy, and I think at this point, the best way to get back on track is by taking a little time away from each other.
Reflect on what's happened to you and what you really want and when you're ready, I'll always be here, arms open and willing to listen.
How does July 1 sound?
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