• Best Wishes, My Ass

    by  • August 14, 2010 • Frustration, Grief, Lost Love, Regret, The Ex • 0 Comments

    I can’t even muster up outrage for you anymore, despite this obnoxious letter you just sent me:

    • Insinuating I might have contracted something for which I might need medical care.
    • Describing that while you’re a saint with your intentions to put me on your insurance, the money you just sent me (which you owe approximately 20 times over) was a one-shot thing, like that’s worth a pile of moose crap.
    • Making me out to be the bad one because I don’t want to talk to you, or haven’t heard from your brother on behalf of your shit taking up space in my new place.
    • Insinuating that you are a saint for keeping in touch with a lawyer about that problem that would never have been a problem if you weren’t such a fucking prick who doesn’t keep his promises or obligations.
    • Insinuating that you’re a good guy for looking into filing for divorce. This was MY goddamn choice, and I’m glad I finally made it, you jackass.

    Hmm, I guess I was wrong. There is a lot of outrage there, along with a quite a few other negative emotions.

    No, we can never be friends, no matter how much time passes. My friends and family would have me committed if I stayed friends with you. You’re a fucking douche bag and an imbecile.

    I would like to bomb this letter. I wish it were not illegal for me to bomb things. This letter should have been a letter YOU never sent.

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