To whom it no longer concerns

Once someone hurt me, badly.

Wastes of oxygen. We cross paths with them throughout life. Sometimes it’s a quick encounter and unfortunately sometimes it’s not. I happened to cross paths with one for well over 4 years, and it became something rather serious for well over 3. I left that person in the dark 14 months ago and never looked back. I had found a normal, caring, warm-hearted and genuine man that wanted nothing more than for me to be okay. I now understand how happy I could been for those 3+ years. I am now the luckiest girl in the world, thanks to you.

To Whom it No Longer Concerns,

When I say that your life, or the life you claim to live, is a completely self-created and made up pile of shit, what do you think? You think I’m wrong, and you think I’m wrong because by 39 you’ve persuaded yourself that you really are this brilliant, widely admired, God-like prodigy of a human.  You feed off of the admiration you receive from the students you teach to the people you meet on the street. However, the thing is that they don’t admire you, they admire the person they think you are. Like them, I was fooled once, too. Unfuckingfortunately, I was given the extended opportunity to find out who you really are. While I was the person you screwed over the hardest, there are other wonderful and beautiful people you hurt, too.

You lied to people to make your life look better, to make yourself feel better, and to boost that low self-esteem and self-image. You wanted another high. When the high is gone or someone calls you out on your bullshit you move on to your next victim.  I’m aware that you’ve done it again. You’re pathetic. Small world, eh?

Please tell me how much effort does it take to live multiple lives and impersonate multiple people? Is it really worth all of that effort, and for so long, just to control someone’s life? My life–and it’s all because you can’t control your own.

Please, allow me to tell you who you are since you clearly don’t know.

Now clinically speaking you are mentally ill. I personally call it being extremely fucked, however, given my college degree I’d say at least 30% of your fucked-ness stems from a Dissociative Identity Disorder. Examples of this were basically everything that came out of your mouth, but specifically when you impersonated famous musicians as well as doctors that treated you at the hospital…that you didn’t attend because you weren’t ill…because the location of the photos you sent me from said hospital showed your home address, you know, the home where you lived with your wife. The place you slept when you told me you were sleeping in a hospital bed.

Every.

Night.

Please refer to DSM-IV to learn about the other 70% of your problems because diagnosing you isn’t why I’m writing this and I refuse to give you anymore of my time.

I want to close with some real life shit because I am a real person with real relationships and real experiences.

Fun facts first:

  1. Your new job has their suspicions and their eyes on you thanks to the internet and me having a fully functional brain. I’m not the only one who contacted them.
  2. Derbyshire.

Real talk:

The 3+ years I was manipulated by you doesn’t define me. The way you made me feel doesn’t define me. The way you used the people I love most doesn’t define me nor them. Your lies that I at one time believed don’t define me. The number of times you humiliated me doesn’t define me.

You took advantage of someone pure and beautiful. You dimmed that shine in her eye, that warmth in her smile, but you didn’t break her because you weren’t strong enough. You will never be strong enough.

You see, the time you stole from me I can’t get back. I can’t use it to spend more time with my grandfather, now deceased. I can’t use it to spend time with the people that mean the most to me. I can’t use it to spend with my grandmother who is now ill. You know, she would ask about you because she is the kindness of souls, but I politely tell her that you lied about your illness and your life. Since then, she has only asked about Arvind and absolutely adores him. He comes with me to visit her. He buys her flowers. That’s what real relationships are like.

I have learned some things as a result of what you took from me. I now know the value of time and how precious it is. I now waste very little. I now am strong and wise. I now have an appreciation for every experience and every relationship. I now know what love is. Real love–something you will never feel nor deserve.

Let me tell you, real love is untamed and invigorating. It makes you want to laugh until you cry, to dance until you fall over. It makes you want to be a better person. It gives you perspective. It makes everything else in the world a little less important. Love gives you a little bit of everything you’ll ever need.

Thanks to you, I know where rock bottom is and I’ll never be back. You, however, have always lived there and you always will. Rock bottom is where cowards like you live because they’re ashamed of their disgraceful lives. You may have screwed me over, my family, my friends, but I will never be ashamed of my life.

The time I [kinda] spent with you: a total waste.

The lessons I learned from it: invaluable. 

I am beautiful. I am vibrant. I am strong. I am fortunate.  I am wildly in love.

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This guy right here, a real man. Next to him, pure bliss.

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