I don't know how you can look at yourself without wanting to punch yourself in the face.
Your head is so far up your ass that you can't even think the words "I'm sorry," much less feel them. I now realize I don't have to forgive you to free me. You don't deserve forgiveness and I can't see me ever offering it to you.
You took every ounce of self-respect that I had left and and shredded it, then laughed about it with your friends. I'm still not sure if you're so naive that you can't see how offensive you are or if you're truly that much of a sociopath. And I'm equally unsure of which is worse for you.
You said this was the worst breakup you could've imagined. Um, you think so? The fact that you consider it a breakup shows how detached you are from reality.
It wasn't a breakup; it was a soul rape of someone who doesn't go around f*cking a bunch of dudes like it's no big deal and someone who trusted that you were a good person (or at the very least the kind of person that has enough respect for others to actually talk to them when it's time to end things).
And that's why I was so mad. You ran away and hid while you knew how badly I was hurting. Your ability to turn a blind eye to someone hurting so badly — someone you claimed was a friend — is so contradictory of the man you claim to be and is so incredibly disappointing.
I don't care how well you've fooled yourself and those around you; you're selfish. You're a coward who didn't even have the balls to talk to me like real man. But you did sit around while your ex-wife f*cked someone else, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You're manipulative. You're fake.
I don't know if it was your childhood that f*cked you up, your crazy religious upbringing, or your f*cked-up marriage but something damaged you — beyond repair.
You do get credit for being convincing. The fact that you got someone like me to give someone like you a chance is worth at least two cookies. But you set out to see if you could get someone like me to be with someone like you, like some sort of conquest.
I honestly don't know how you can look at yourself in the morning without wanting to punch yourself in the face.
I pray that you raise your son to be a real person with real feelings who's strong enough to do what's right, even if it sucks for him or makes him uncomfortable. And I pray that you raise your daughter to not put up with men like you.
I think that just about covers everything I've been holding inside because I have something called morals and empathy. F*ck, it feels good to finally say it.
Don't worry, I'm done. Don't go running to the police like a helpless victim. I wanted this to be more of a "skipping off into the sunset going our separate ways but with mutual respect" kind of ending, but I gave up on you ever letting that happen.
Here's to you one day having a "come to Jesus" moment and working on yourself. I'm always working on myself — having the balls to send this is a big step for me.
Have fun living with yourself for the rest of your life. That's called karma right there.
*drops sugar-free Red Bull*