Hate Mail: An Actual Old Journal Entry

28 Sep

Day 18 of the 90 in 90 blog challenge.

I found this gem in an old journal. I’ve left out names for obvious reasons. Enjoy.

Dear ______,
Ever since I met you at that first party, I’ve wondered what it is about you that makes you a creep. I can’t really put my finger on it. Maybe it’s the way you sort of flirt with me while not taking a single step away from me. Maybe it’s the way you obviously try to make me “jealous” by giving me your creepy little I’m-trying-too-hard-to-be-sexy eye and then disappearing into the crowd to talk to other women. I don’t know. Or, maybe it’s the way you remind me of one of my girlfriends when you try to flirt with me.

You just rub me the wrong way. Something about you makes something about me go running and screaming in the opposite direction. When I think about kissing you, my mouth actually gets a funny taste in it. My hair starts to turn gray and fall out. And when you texted me, telling me you’d call me tonight, a little bit of my soul actually considered turning black and flaking off. The good bit of my soul, too, mind you. The part that wants to help any small, weak, hungry, helpless animal was THIS close to turning black and flaking off. My SOUL, ____. My soul. You scare my soul.

When I think about the thought of you reading this letter, I picture your sly and repulsive smile crookedly fading, and your square jaw drooping a bit in complete confusion. I hope you find someone who can look past your creepiness and make you happy, because with a last name like ______, that poor, naive, delusional, stupid and wretched girl will most certainly not be me.

Love always,

“Care Bear.”

P.S. Don’t ever call me that. Ever. Again.


2 Responses to “Hate Mail: An Actual Old Journal Entry”

  1. mmohara September 28, 2012 at 5:04 pm #

    Do old ones really count?

    • Carolyn September 28, 2012 at 11:35 pm #

      I’m not sure… I think they do, only because they’ve shaped me into who I am now. But I probably find this ten times funnier because I know who it is I’m talking about/writing to. MAN he was creeptastic.

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