Monday January 29th 2007, 9:51 pm
Filed under: All Letters,Hate Letters

To the hickey on your neck,

Dear bitch, I’ve made it to Los Angeles! The Phoenix is reborn! But do you care about my reincarnation? Fuck no you don’t, you selfish person. Tonight, after my arrival into this vortex of a town, I once again viewed your Myspace account. Low and behold, to my disapproval and contempt, you had posted a photo of yourself with a bright and shinny hickey on your neck. Let me first tell you how disgusted I am by your public display of your scandalous engagements. Why the fuck must you publicize your fallen physical repercussions? Do you find it sexy to narcissistically view your image of shame? Does it please your senses to use the internet as a mirror for your scandals? Why must you embellish your sex life with such vivid documentation? Well, in response to your actions, I can respond to you with a whole-hearted “Fuck off!” Let me tell you how the last hour of my car ride to Los Angeles went: I couldn’t read the exit signs because my eyes were burning from the swelling of tears. I cried for an hour straight; and let me tell you, it’s no easy task to cry while driving a car full of boxes – boxes which represent the turmoil my life is in at this present moment. All I could think about was my own defeat, represented by the loss of your love. However, I felt good emotions towards you, even though I could only criticize my own impotent actions towards our situation. I felt like a looser, someone who doesn’t deserve any more chances at neither happiness nor success in life. On several occasions my muscles flinched, contracting my hands, which made me swerve my car. I almost died because of the self-loathing that I could not surpass during that last hour of my drive Once I finally reached my destination, I came to the conclusion that things were going to get better, and that you and I were not a failure, yet an ever-progressing germination of the process of our love and understanding – the good times and the horrible times are part of the whole which constitutes our essence. Except I now have a new understanding of our essence, post-hickey photo: you are a hateful person and a fallen woman who doesn’t have the decency to be monogamist, or to seve me with divorce papers before you go and make out (or make-love) to other people. Again, my rage and hate for your being has swelled and I can only think about how much I loath your existence. On the other side of all this, I am now currently 400 miles away from you and no longer have to be in your physical presence. The streets out front are not the streets of San Francisco, which I would be wandering right now if I were there. Instead, I have good friends around me and therefore I am going to work through this rage in a healthy manner. Furthermore, I’d like to remind you of your lascivious yet fallen ways, by continuing to write to you as I have in the past.

-The rage inside me.

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