Dear, (Name Has Been Witheld)

I go back and forth – eternally so – between brick solid assurance that I will slap him, and utter desperation that I will kiss him.  This internal seesaw kills me every time I ride it, yet I can’t seem to resist mounting at even the slightest provocation.  Why does one person – a crazy one at that – hold, in entirety, the pulsating and often delicate heart of my private resolve? Such a fact dilutes my ability to succeed in ways which I am only just now aware of.  I never sensed the edges of the blanket or felt the weight of its framework until someone proactively yanked it away.  I never understood the knot in my gut until something sliced it in two.  I never saw the multifaceted sheet of ice until SHE raised the hammer of obliteration.  I write her name in all capitals because it best expresses this sudden onset of potent anger – yes anger – for her entire attractive, accessible, acquired body…and subsequently villainous essence.  What the hell, Nameless Male? What the hell. 

 Oh I hope you’re happy together.  I hope you’re blissful.  Tonight I will lie awake just wishing all the best for both of you, while vividly picturing the inevitable and most likely current physical activities which occupy most couples, thus rendering me even more supportive.  I wish you each happiness, success, freedom, peace, love, and warm chocolate chip cookies.  I wish upon a star.  Hugs from me –

 Your ever supportive, well wishing, forgotten friend

 ♥ L

P.S. I never use sarcasm 🙂

 P.P.S. About those warm chocolate chip cookies: They’re poisoned.


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