Dear No One

10.12.16

I realize now that I hate you. That I despise seeing pictures of you. That the mere mention of your name brings bile to my taste. I hate your guts so much that I'm glad we're so far apart. I'm relieved that I do not have to endure your presence because I'm sure that I couldn't. I am absolutely certain of the fact that if you were ever to stand in the same room as me, you wouldn't be standing after that anymore. I do admit that I am not the best and most stable person, and that I deserve pain more than most, but for what you've done, you deserve a lifetime of agonizing torture. You do not deserve to have fits of laughter, for because of you, she no longer giggles. You're the reason. You're the reason she puts herself through it. You're the reason I stay up at night, thinking about that blade, gently, almost miraculously, grazing her skin. I ponder of how it must feel. I ponder of the thoughts that must sprint through her mind. I hope in every single second that she realizes that you're not goddamn worth it! Your opinions are useless. Your words, simply garbage! And you, dear horrible fucktard, are merely a crap load. And I loath the fact that others don't see that, that she doesn't see it. I loath the fact that you're walking about, continuing to live your life as though you haven't ruined the most beautiful person I've ever met. I loath you like I've never loathed anyone before. And I pray oh so indignantly that you rot in hell after you finish your wondrous, nonchalant life.