I have to try to remember the good things. I am usually so filled with anger that I can’t help it, but I’ll try. It’s hard to remember the good things, when all you can think about are the bad things.
Maybe it’s just that I wanted someone to care for me. I needed that a lot then, you know. But that wasn’t a good enough reason. Looking back, I know that.
It’s funny how hindsight is twenty twenty, and it’s funny how I was going to write something about you that was good... But you were are liar, and still are one, and I wasn’t immune to your violence. All of the good memories I have of you are clouded by Your anger, and rage, and insolence, and idiocy.
So I guess I can’t do it this time. I have to write about things that matter to me. So I could write about how I want you to go through a slow painful death.
But you probably know I think that.
