How dare you? Leave me wondering what the ******** was happening to you? You aren't worthy of a second of my time, let alone a nanobyte of my e-mail space. I'm not going to write back, and do you know why? Because when you left me standing there, I got up and I gave myself a life. I wrote. I ******** wrote until it started to suck. I drew. Characters are taking up a role in my brain, and I love them. I painted. I am a ******** good painter when I put my mind to it. I pulled up the artist I was and now am and carry that guise.
But you know what's really going to give you a blow in the balls? I didn't miss you. I barely thought of you. Only now do you send me a small letter to remind me that you once held a place in my head. You don't give a ********. But then, neither do I. I'm doing us both a favor. You don't have a reason to write back, and I know that I am done with this.
That s**t that you dragged me through? Not my ******** problem. You deal with it. I was never required to care, but I did. What about when I had something to say? Did you even look up? You are welcome to keep up with this narcissism and whatever, but stop being such a ******** tragic hero. I know too many tragic heros and heroines.
The only worth you have is an entire entry of my journal. An entire entry dedicated to my disgust and exhasperation with you and your s**t. You're worth every word of it, or I wouldn't bother. But as soon as I hit "submit", you'll no longer matter. I'll remember, but not hold on. You don't need me. You've made that more than clear.
With a final "******** you" and an echo of " "...
Aabener Community Member 
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