Dear ■■■■■ ■■■,

I'd prefer not knowing you at all. To call yourself my ex is a title of honor to you, but I don't even acknowledge you as an ex. Not an experience, not a memory, but a regret. Fearing you was a pathetic phase of mine, but now I realize that you are simply a insufferable, pathetic man in frits. You experienced many phases of me, but what was consistent was my misery around you that swelled and ballooned over time. Your bold little moves both in and outside of our relationship only solidified my view of you as an insecure husk without a human heart. Especially with that period of time where you were so weak you had to establish power over a 12 year old and abuse her.

But you don't want to talk about that, right?

According to your family, you can do no wrong. Daddy dearest thinks everything has to happen for a reason, and it can't be your fault. Mommy dearest thinks you're just a dreamboat who is flawed and all should be forgiven. You believe establishing a name for yourself will cure you of your past actions. You believe someone knowing you from a golf team or race team will land you a wife, kids, and a home. You think having your name spoken by adults and children alike will make you feel better about yourself.

It won't.

If your desire is to be famous, I cannot stop you. But do not drag my name through the dirt thinking canards will get you anywhere. You have one warning. This is not like our relationship where I can give you multiple chances in fear. I know how much you like talking about me, and while I hate the feeling of your name sliding off my tongue, I'll speak devil's tongue about you just as much as you speak it about me. You are not stronger than me, emotionally or physically.

I am not the scapegoat you and your family thinks I am. Catch your own tongue before I do it for you, weasel.