Dear John

Dear John, I mean Mr. Pollen,

I simply cannot carry on this way any longer. You have caused many a sleepless night with the running water faucet from the left nostril and the stuffed cotton ball on the right. You have turned my throat into ground chuck. You have caused me to eat Ricola throat drops as if they are Skittles. Because of you, I cannot step foot outdoors and you have caused my eldest child to be on an Albuterol high 24/7.

You claim that Zyrtec would be our happy pill, but it's just not cutting the butter. You make me want to gouge out my eyeballs, cut off my nose, and scratch my throat with a stick. I've contemplated moving into an oxygen chamber, but it will cost you greatly.

I see no other way than to say good bye.

Goodbye, John Pollen.