Dear Constantly Cheery Asshole
You're not spreading joy, you're making us want to kill ourselves with your forced positivity and your phony perma-grin. Message received: you love life and you shit Technicolour rainbows. Now hop into a Crock-Pot and simmer down, because you're at a ten and we need you at a four. You're acting deranged, doodling smiley faces on things and skipping around like a hyperactive child who just overdosed on Pixy Stix. Life isn't that grand all the time, so put your unicorn pillowcases in storage and join the rest of us in the real world.
Regretfully,
P.S. Ease off on the red pills.

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