Dear C;
Yes, your name begins with C for a reason….C for C-U-N-T. The sound of your voice makes my flesh crawl, your fake smile makes me want to douse you in kerosene and shove you into a fiery pit. I get paid diddly squat to take care of your father (and DAMN good care at that, b****), and no commission to put up with your idiotic control freak b*******. Funny how you told the home office I wasn’t fit to take care of him, yet only months later you called up begging to have me back. Not even your own children can stand being around you! I’m not the only one who’s s*** you unnecessarily jumped in many times, so pretending that the people surrounding you are to blame is a little futile at this point. It is not my fault that you have many unresolved mommy/daddy issues, it is not my fault that you are too spineless and selfish to end your current relationship so you instead choose to cheat with the fat pothead who does your landscaping….and finally, it is NOT my fault that I’m prettier, smarter, and happier at a much younger age than you could ever hope to be, no matter how much you secretly hate me because of it. 🙂 I’m completing my education (sorry I’m too “white trash”–as you put it behind my back–to have my parents pay for it), I’m creating a better life for myself, I’m pulling myself through my own personal issues, and you’ll still be the same gloomy, sagging old hag that drowns others in her sorrows without trying. Have fun trying to regain the control you never really had, because nothing else in your life seems worth pursuing.
Good riddance! Man, I feel a hell of a lot better.
