The thought of him will forever fester in my rotting heart. The thought of him makes me want to die,
and every time I do think about him, I die a little inside. Nobody will ever hold a candle to this f***er, but sometimes I wish they would hold it right under my dress and immerse me in flames so the feeling that is associated with thinking about his smug little fat face will just f**king forever disperse. I've never felt so strongly in either direction for anyone ever! Both my love and hate for him will be locked inside my ailing heart forever.
I dream of him and its as if a piece of my soul has been seared with his stupid brand, like its been ripped out and stomped on by a little band of trolls who have come to scar my soul. Even in my old age, his image will be burned upon my brain forever, rancid, rotting in the sun, and smelling like spoiled milk in a fire ignited by a thousand suns.
The couple of hours of pleasure I was awarded in his company has certainly not been worth the sixteen years of pain I have endured for it. That's certainly not a just reward, and way more than giving me my just deserts for being a moron.
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