Post by ionysis on Feb 12, 2009 1:32:05 GMT -5
I knew it was you as soon as I saw the car. And its a new car - not one I recognised so how could I have known it was you?
I turned around in my seat at the traffic lights and waved at you. You didn't wave back, you looked utterly shocked, pole-axed.
I'd like to say I was over you, that I'm indifferent to you. But I'm not indifferent. I wish you ill.
I know that is a terrible thing to say but it's the truth. I sent you a jaunty "Blind as a bat!" via SMS to show you I didn't care, but I do care. I wish you unhappiness.
I wish you failure and misery and shame throughout your life. I hope that life, God, whatever, punishes you for your lies and your cowardice, for the fact that you think you can buy people, for your and shallowness and selfishness, your hypocrisy and your snobbishness. I hope you never have a single day of peace or contentment for the rest of your life. I wish you ill Richard, and I always will.
More than anything I hope you end up marrying that ex-whore youre now living with. It would be a just reward for you and for your stuck up family. *I* wasn't good enough because I wasn't from your social class - HA! You didn't pick me up in a bar and pay me $400 to f*ck you. You deserve to be married to that - its all you're worth. And I hope you are an object of pity and ridicule to all your friends and family forever - the balding, middle-aged man who picked up a Russian hooker and is now married to her. How that would dilute the aristocratic blood that you are so proud of - imagine, your precious heirs the offspring of a Chechen whore. Your adored father would be so proud! Imagine the taunting by the other boys at Eton!
How can so much love turn into this loathing Richard? I have never wished misery upon another person before. And you of all people. I will never love anyone again in the way I loved you - you broke a part of me and nothing can ever repair it. I don't WANT to feel that again - that desperate longing, that weakness, that overwhelming craving for someone who is incapable of loving back. Losing myself, my self-respect, believing I was nothing without your love. What I have now is healthy - I know who I am with Danny and he loves me more than a woman was ever loved in this world.
Does this mean I'm not "over" you? That I'm not ready to be married? I don't think so. I think that all that means is that I believe in justice. Fortunately I don't have to do one single thing to MAKE your life miserable - simply being the person you are pretty much ensures you a life of unhappiness. And for that I am glad, oh yes, I am glad and I hope you suffer until your dying day.
I turned around in my seat at the traffic lights and waved at you. You didn't wave back, you looked utterly shocked, pole-axed.
I'd like to say I was over you, that I'm indifferent to you. But I'm not indifferent. I wish you ill.
I know that is a terrible thing to say but it's the truth. I sent you a jaunty "Blind as a bat!" via SMS to show you I didn't care, but I do care. I wish you unhappiness.
I wish you failure and misery and shame throughout your life. I hope that life, God, whatever, punishes you for your lies and your cowardice, for the fact that you think you can buy people, for your and shallowness and selfishness, your hypocrisy and your snobbishness. I hope you never have a single day of peace or contentment for the rest of your life. I wish you ill Richard, and I always will.
More than anything I hope you end up marrying that ex-whore youre now living with. It would be a just reward for you and for your stuck up family. *I* wasn't good enough because I wasn't from your social class - HA! You didn't pick me up in a bar and pay me $400 to f*ck you. You deserve to be married to that - its all you're worth. And I hope you are an object of pity and ridicule to all your friends and family forever - the balding, middle-aged man who picked up a Russian hooker and is now married to her. How that would dilute the aristocratic blood that you are so proud of - imagine, your precious heirs the offspring of a Chechen whore. Your adored father would be so proud! Imagine the taunting by the other boys at Eton!
How can so much love turn into this loathing Richard? I have never wished misery upon another person before. And you of all people. I will never love anyone again in the way I loved you - you broke a part of me and nothing can ever repair it. I don't WANT to feel that again - that desperate longing, that weakness, that overwhelming craving for someone who is incapable of loving back. Losing myself, my self-respect, believing I was nothing without your love. What I have now is healthy - I know who I am with Danny and he loves me more than a woman was ever loved in this world.
Does this mean I'm not "over" you? That I'm not ready to be married? I don't think so. I think that all that means is that I believe in justice. Fortunately I don't have to do one single thing to MAKE your life miserable - simply being the person you are pretty much ensures you a life of unhappiness. And for that I am glad, oh yes, I am glad and I hope you suffer until your dying day.