I suppose it would be easiest to just come out and say it. I know how you value honesty.
As you probably know, I was in love with you for the better part of two years. Possibly even three, but I tried to downplay it during that last one. Your playful one-liners and carefree attitude, teamed with the fact that you were clearly the most attractive turtle, swept me off my feet. Alas, I was only nine years old, and you were well into your teens. I hoped that you would wait for me.
And now we've met once again, all these years later. I fear that, during our time apart, I have outgrown you. I am now an adult woman, and you remain a teenager, which, I have to say Mikey, is strange.
I was pleased to see that you are still looking well. Time has not dampened your zest for life, nor your sense of humour. You seem to be listening to younger, hipper music that makes me feel old, and perhaps "Spin That Wheel" and "Ninja Rap" were never really as good as I thought they were.
I guess what I am trying to say is, although I am still very fond of you, it is clear that our lives are very different now. You, an adolescent turtle living in the sewers of New York, and I a 26-year-old woman about to enter graduate school. I guess we weren't meant to be.
You will always be my favourite Ninja Turtle. I know most girls were attracted to Raphael's tough-guy loner attitude, but for me it was always you. I wish you all the best with your future, which I hope will be long. No doubt there will be other nine-year-old girls who look at you and hear wedding bells. One of them should be so lucky.