Dear Mr. Ex:
I have spent this Friday evening actively loathing you.
The money I have dispensed on attorney bills trying to get you to finish up our financial affairs is now an amount too terrifying to utter.
The brain power I have given over to the rage and grief at the way you have treated me is a creativity-devouring, heart-shredding monster.
Someday that monster will devour you and spit out your bones one by one. I will gather them up and hang them in my tallest tree as wind chimes. The sound will remind me that you're gone, and I will dance.
2 comments:
I am certain that your dance card will fill up quickly, so I'd like to reserve a dance with you.
I'm so sorry that you're having to deal with so much shit.
The post you have made over here is really nice and it is interesting as well.
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