Dear Smith Dingledong…

I hate you… From the bottom of my heart I hate you. I hate you more than I hate myself and that’s saying something. I love to hate you, in fact. I wish I could hurt you the way you hurt me. I wish I could bring you all the different kinds of pain I can think of imaginable just to quell the anger that swells inside me. I pace these walls of mine in my head, hungry to let loose the hatred I have for you, only to have it unleashed on other people, but it isn’t the same if it’s not you. I want to hate you forever, it feels good. It feels right. I hate you, Christopher. I hate what you’ve done to me. I hate how you’ve made me feel like nothing about love is sacred. I hate how you’ve made me feel confused about it. I don’t care about your opinions of me or if you even have respect for me left. I wouldn’t even care if you lived or died the next day. Actually, I would care if you died, only because that would mean I would miss the chance to some how show you my hatred towards you some more. I was being honest when I told you that you were the cause and catalyst to my hatred and I meant every word of it. We can never be friends and we will -never- be friends again. You ruined that change forever. I hope that when you do die that you rot in hell, or that when you do find love, that that it hurts and breaks you beyond repair. My only regret was that it couldn’t be me that would break you.