“Sadly, based on the tremendous anger and open hostility displayed in your most recent statement, I feel it is inappropriate, at this time, to have this long-planned meeting,” Trump says. Here, the president is employing his characteristic liberty with the truth. He announced the date and location of the summit only two weeks ago, part of an elaborate PR rollout that included teases of the announcement and the minting of a commemorative coin.

Trump continues:

Therefore, please let this letter serve to represent that the Singapore summit, for the good of both parties, but to the detriment of the world, will not take place. You talk about your nuclear capabilities, but ours are so massive and powerful that I pray to God they will never have to be used.

Seeking to respond to the North Korean statement’s threat of a showdown, Trump produces a strange juxtaposition, saying the summit would have been good and warning of nuclear war even as he pulls out. Then the president changes his tone abruptly.

“I felt a wonderful dialogue was building up between you and me, and ultimately, it is only that dialogue that matters. Some day, I look very much forward to meeting you,” he writes, adding that North Korea’s release of three American hostages earlier this month “was a beautiful gesture and was very much appreciated.” It looked like possibly the first public acknowledgment from the president that he had spoken directly to Kim Jong Un but, also in Trumpian fashion, left unclear what exactly happened or what exactly he meant.

In closing, Trump writes, “If you change your mind having to do with this most important summit, please do not hesitate to call me or write”—a confusing suggestion, given that it is he and not Kim who called the summit off.

Tonally, the letter is vintage Trump, reminiscent of the notes he used to send to reporters when he took issue with their work. When giving speeches, Trump has at times used speechwriters, but their words often sound odd in Trump’s mouth. The effect is a little like listening to someone speak a foreign language competently but with a strong accent: He can do it, but it doesn’t sound natural. Tuesday night, he told a political gathering, “Your vote in 2018 is every bit as important as your vote in 2016,” then quickly backtracked: “Although I’m not sure I really believe that, but you know. I don’t know who the hell wrote that line,” he said, to laughter. The Boston Globe reported this week on how staffers have tried to learn to ape his diction, though given the stakes and Trump’s insistence on his personal role, it seems likely this letter is his own.

So is the feeling of personal affront that runs through it. The U.S., confident in its position of power, has tended to look the other way in international negotiations when adversaries pop off verbally, content to win on substance. For Trump, however, style is substance, and provocations like North Korea’s latest statements are too much to bear.