Open Your Eyes, It's An Earthquake.

I am neither lying, nor exaggerating, nor the least bit unsure when I say this: I am a much better person than you. I could never do the things you’ve done, those things that lack a moral compass, a pure heart. In every situation I encounter, boundaries are made, they are not ignored, they are not set aside. You are absolutely nothing other than a child for whom these boundaries seem not to exist. You try to claim maturity, but we can all smell your facade. 

Let me say this: Yes, you got the boy. Congratulations! You’ve won a prize fit for your means of receiving it. By beginning in betrayal and a puzzle of lies, you’ve entwined your heart with that of another liar, another expert of betrayal. Many days (though none recently,) I’ve thought of appropriate punishments (in a sense of karma, if you will) for what you’ve done. I’ve loathed you to an extent where I feel as if my kind, full heart has been emptied, drained, dried, blackened. After much bitter contemplation, I realized that you are preparing your own punishment. This fantastic, humorous, beautiful boy is a drug, you see. He will kill some part of you someday.