Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Listen, you despicable old man



I've tried to deal with what you've done. I thought I was over it. Well- I'm not. The fact that you continue to wake up everyday, the fact that you are still capable of crawling of the festering ooze that has become your most recent resting place revolts me to my very core.
 I wish nothing for you other than disease and destruction. As you have become a rash in my life, so too do I wish such an abrasion in yours. I'm surprised you haven't gotten scars from all the bridges you set ablaze.
I am infuriated to tears when I think of how many good and wonderful people are in the world, dying every day of fatal diseases, and yet you are able to walk the earth as you please.
You have created quite a name for yourself, haven't you? Several, in fact. You hide behind every one of them, you deceitful cur. And yet, we all know who you are, every time. Each of your faces follows you, much like the path of brokenness and misery you leave in your wake. 
I look forward to watching your sandcastles dissolve. I long for the day when you are ruined and broken, when the world casts you out and rejects you- having finally realized how disgusting you really are- and you are forced into the darkness to die alone.