Dear Sir,
Allow me to begin boldly: you are no gentleman.
You asked for my heart and enticed me cruelly. You offered adventure, but when I packed my bags you left me at the train station…what’s with that? You told me I could have paradise if I paid my ticket…and then you chained me up while I watched the photographs burn. You tempted me with thrills and kisses, only to slide poison down my throat. (In case you were wondering: no, it didn’t kill me.)
You said you had a solution to my pain—but you only made it worse, and you knew it.
You offered hope, and you failed me.
You said you’d give me beauty but your rusty knife left ghastly wounds and unseemly scars. (Hey, I just learned I’m getting a new body—and it’s gonna be hotter than hell. You should know about hell…) You really hated every inch of me, but said that losing inches would let you love me more.
Yet you never had a heart, so how dare you play with mine? YOU SUCK.
Listen to me now, for I shall only chance to speak once more with you:
You are a jerk.
You don’t own me.
You are filthy, wretched and measly.
You will burn unmercifully in Hell. You have been rendered impotent. God be praised, you are forever damned.
Oh yeah, and you’re not taking me with you. But I’ll gladly watch you burn. And then I’ll walk away.
Father of Lies, this is to inform you that your parental rights have been terminated.
Signed,
With the triumphant blood of Jesus
(It set me free)
jess leigh hanna 