I warned you this was coming. You took and you took from me and gave nothing back. When I said I would forgive you and let it go, I really meant it, I'm not mad anymore, but in letting go I too have let go of you. To say, "you're dead to me" would give the both of us too much credit. You're nothing but a series of abstract ideals that are only granted meaning or existence when I hear or see you. Your messages, your memory, they are easily put out but you are a parasite, a thing that feeds upon and envenoms your host. If only I could tear you off I would heal. I could be rid of you, and the hatred you breed. It is only you who keeps me from realizing my true potential and only you who dares stand in my way.

I look in the mirror and see what you've done to me, how I've aged. I've grown wiser but alas I've grown less tolerant, less patient, and less a man. I used to think, should I ever get the chance I'll have my revenge but revenge is what you want. You become the embodiment of everyone I hurt and by God I won't accept it anymore. I'd rather burn for the sins of my father than to dwell on what will happen to you should I ever relinquish my hold on what I believe to be right and true.

Sincerely Yours,
Yourself