Another Letter I’ll Never Send

Dear former lover,

I hate you. It has been over ten years, and I still hate you. I hate you for what you did to me. I hate you for what was and what should never have been.

I read the other day that on average it takes seven years for all the cells in a healthy adult to replace themselves. Seven. I hope this is correct because I long for a body that you never touched.

I hate you. What you did to me used to make me wish I’d never been born, now I wish you’d never been born. It has taken so many years of work on myself to love myself enough to hate you.

I don’t think I’ll ever let go of this anger. 

I think about you less and less as time passes, but every year your memory comes creeping back in. Every year.

December is haunted because of you. I’m haunted because of you. I hate you with every fiber of my being. I hope you suffer every day of your life. 

I hope your socks are always damp. I hope you have a million unfinished sneezes. I hope you forget a word at a moment that makes you look like a fool. I hope you itch on the heel of your foot and never really satisfy it.

I hope you rot,


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