Listen up, because I want to make this short and to the point. I’m sure we both have better things to do than sit around writing or reading dumb, opinionated letters.

I do not hate you. I don’t dislike you. Frankly, I don’t even know you. But it cannot be said that I do not care about you. I will do whatever is in my power to get rid of you. You will not be with me for much longer, I swear this to you. And then, I will never have to worry about your stupid face again. If you even have a face.
In hindsight, I should explain a couple things. You are probably as confused about me as I am about you.
I want to be timeless. I want to last forever. I do not want to go away. Or maybe I do, I don’t know. But your existence prohibits me from that knowledge. Do you see? Do you get it? That is all I really want: knowledge.
By the way, please don’t take any of this personally. It is not, by any means, personal. In fact, this could all be avoided if you just let me be a little more informed on the subject of… you. I wish that I knew you, oh how I wish. Maybe, then, I could be at rest, and not constantly be worried about how to deal with you once you come and, less importantly for me, once you leave.
But I know that talking to you or dealing with you is not an option. So, I really do hope this letter reaches you, and that you have enough time to read it. I understand that you are probably pretty busy, what with your… job or whatnot.
I’m sorry, I really am, I am so sorry. I don’t wish an untimely end to anybody, but I need you to go. I’m not sure I could take it if you didn’t. And not right now, of course not right now. But you can’t stay forever if I want to. At some point, you can’t exist anymore. I hope you realize that.
And it’s not like I’m a malicious entity. I don’t want anything to stop existing. I’m helping everything else around me as well as myself. I’m not just selfish.
I just want you to go away. That’s all I’m asking. I’m sure there’s somewhere else you can go. I just don’t know where. Maybe you don’t either. But that is not my problem. You will just have to deal with it.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you can have no idea how it hurts me to be such a hypocrite to condemn you to what scares me so much. But it has to be done. I’m so, so, so sorry.
Please do not contact me.

A Letter From Death or A Letter To Life
How dare you? How could you? Do you have any idea how sad and lonely and pathetic you sound? To fill in your obvious ignorance, you sound extremely sad and lonely and pathetic. Now, can you even fathom how much more sad and lonely and pathetic I am? How could you even consider asking me to do what you are?
Do you think of anyone besides yourself? Do not consider what I have to deal with every day. It’s not like you were anyways, but if you did, you might actually want to see me one day to actually apologize. You will see me, one day, no matter if you want me to go away or not. There is nothing that anybody or anything can do to stop that, and definitely not me.
I can not believe that you would even think I had any control over any of this. Do you think that I would choose to do what I do unless I had to? Do you really think that it’s all in my control? Do you just assume that I do it for kicks?
You said that you are a simple creature, that you are not malicious, and boy do I believe you. But as malicious as you are not, I am veritably even less so. I do what I have to to make the world turn, because without me, you would be lost. You would have nowhere to turn, no reason to do anything at all. The whole purpose of your existence would be null and void if not for me. You should be thanking me.
And of course I seem scary. You don’t know a thing about me. You even admitted it yourself. You seem to enjoy making snap judgements about the things which seem distasteful to you, don’t you? If you ask for the knowledge of what happens to you once you meet me, how can you be completely sure that I know it, much less that I can give it to someone as inconsequential as you?
And believe me, you are inconsequential. You have no idea how many people plead with and blame me for everything. You are not the first and you will not be the last to whimper and whine at what you do not understand. What you cannot understand. I almost feel sorry for you. Almost.
I don’t blame you. Please do not misunderstand me. I get why you sent the correspondence. I just cannot believe that you, of all entities, had the gall to send it. I am in a worse boat than you. I have nothing to look forward to. I have no idea what my future holds, and you can create whatever you want of your unfolding reality.
So, in summation, thank you for your consideration of my time and how I shouldn’t use it to write or read asinine letters, my undesired response to your previous letter is this: I do not care about your petty  fears. They are just the same as those of everyone else around me and you, and nothing compared with mine. I will come to you whether you want me to or not. And I suggest you ignore this fact until it happens to you. Because if it is pity you are looking for, you will definitely not find it here.
I will contact you, don’t worry.