Go. Away.

I’m so tired of you. You haunt all my memories. You haunt all my aspirations. Isn’t it enough that you ruined me for those long months of deceit, but now you have to haunt me into the future??? I’m strong enough to be pissed that you still have this power over me…it has more to do with the fact that you were my life for years. I’m used to you. You’re a bad habit I’m trying to break.

I dream about meeting you in 5 years and you’re miserable and I’m at the happiest point in my life and I get an unhealthy amount of joy dreaming about twisting the knife in you. Making sure you’ve been miserable ever since you left me. You were miserable when you were with me, though, so it’s pretty hard to top that. But that wasn’t my fault. I want you to be miserable because of me, not because you’re an immature coward.

I’ve had a new lover.  I got into grad school. I’ve already lost 17 pounds since you left me crying that late May night. I carried so much extra weight because of you(figuratively and literally). I want to wash myself clean of your stench, of your foul influence. I want to laugh at how stupid I was when I loved you. I want to see your picture and think, “oh, that pathetic cad.” I’m almost there, I think.

It only hurts every once and awhile, when I remember that you’re with her and I’m alone. Even though I’m a better person than you. Even though everyone loves me and hates you. Even though I was honest and loyal and loving and caring and you were petty and hateful and a cheater and a BIG FAT LIAR. I’m alone and you’re with her.  I can’t help but hope you’re just as miserable with her as you were with me. I hope she’s horrible but you’re too stupid and co-dependent to realize it yet. I hope she gets worse with time.

I hope I haunt you too. I hope all my vitriol that day I confronted you with the truth you so ineptly attempted to hide was seared into your memory. I hope you burn with the shame that you caused me when I found out. I hope you fall into a painful relapse every time you think about how much of a bastard you really are. I hope you think of me when you’re with her. I hope your life feels more empty with your pale imitations of our life.

And most of all? I hope you know you deserve it.