I usually write things out on my computer and then carefully edit them to make sure I am writing precisely what I want to say and that nothing can be misconstrued in any way. Not this. Fuck being careful and being meticulous.

I am angry and, unlike yesterday where there was nothing I could do lest I have complications of the legal kind threaten me, this time it is as easy as a block and a fuck you and a nice warm shower to wash away the slime. I don’t want to have to do this, and I have been trying not to for so very long, but I refuse to put the emotional welfare of anyone who isn’t my child above and beyond my own. I refuse to sit back and allow my mental health, which let’s be honest is tenuous on the best of days, be injured so that a momentary ego boost can brighten a day. I won’t, I can’t. Fuck you. You’re Gone.

Not gone as in I am going to monologue to you, gone is in you can’t see this because you are already fucking erased. Gone as in today is the last time I will ever say your name out loud other than to tell this fucking tale of bullshit and deception. Gone as in after this, you don’t exist and you can emotionally vampire another motherfucker.

Stories tomorrow, today is done.

 

© 2019, TheJameyBear. All rights reserved.