An open letter to the vuvuzela

Dear Vuvuzela,

We know you’ve been busy, and that’s why we waited to write this letter. Honestly, though, we don’t know how much longer we could have waited. We need to talk.

We know it’s been a whirlwind, these past few weeks. We’ve grown pretty close. You were there when we woke up; you were in our heads as we fell asleep at night. You were even on YouTube. We’re not ashamed to say we fell for you. Exotic, charming, popular. You had it all. Every few years, we seem to throw caution aside, shirk our responsibilities and let ourselves go nuts. It’s the World Cup. We deserve it. Sure, we’ve been ashamed of what we’ve done in past World Cups, but you know what? That’s okay. We move on, we learn.

So it didn’t surprise us that you came into our lives. We’ve had stranger flings.

But we’ve been thinking lately, and it’s time we stop holding back from you. So, here it is.

It’s over, vuvuzela. We’re done. We’re sorry, but we have to move on.

No, please. Stop buzzing. We didn’t mean to — No, really, could you please stop buzzing for a second? This is important. Vuvuze— Hey! Stop. Right. Now. Stop buzzing. We’re trying to talk, here.

Damn it.

Alright. We’ll say this in words you understand, vuvuzela.


Okay? Do you understand? It’s over. We’ll miss you, vuvuzela, but we’ll always have Rustenburg.


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