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Hi. Hey. It's me.
I don't really know if you remember, but I do.
It's the little girl you went to midle school with, who was in your class during two, painful, years. Well, they were for me. To help your memory, let me describe it to you. I was eleven and twelve, glasses and brown hair and eyes. I was quite little, a little chubby too. Fat, according to you. Not very pretty, but so were you.
You had a glorious time, always glistening and shining in the reflexion of your blond hair and your wicked smile. Your glasses showing me the reflexion of my lost sight. Perhaps putting me in the deepest darkness made you feel the light. I can't even remember seeing with my own eyes.
I know it's been almost seven years, and I should've moved on. It's quite desesperate, how you keep holding me down. You're in my frozen veins, draining me from inside. In all of my sharpest pains, I can still hear you laugh. In the distorted reflexion of myself it's through your eyes that I see.
The thing is, you are not a good person. And the words that you say to me, i can't say they're nice ones.
The voice in my head pulling me apart is yours, and I hate it. I hate myself most times, even more than I do you.
The worst thing you know is how fine you're doing. Outhere in your business school, with your stupid friends and your absence of morality. Yes I've been stalking you, always hoping that you're down. But you keep on rising while I'm stuck on the ground. I coul'de have been so many things if I'd never met you. You broke my wings, and my soul too. My mental health, well it's not great. It prevents me from doing so much things I ought to do, or I want to do. And it's awful to lnow how well I could be doing if it wasn't for you. You traumatised me, but that's just what bullies do. What you did. Without a care in the whole worlds, without the bat of an eye. You took the most valuable things about me, and made them out to be the worst.
You ruined my life and there's nothing I can do about it. I can't yell at you, I can't make you pay for it. I can't not hate you, and I really can't forgive. But you probably can't even remember my name when your voice is all I hear. I can see the lines of your presence on my body and my tears.
I hope one day you'll remember, and that the guilt will consume you. I wish you to beg for my forgivness, knowing that I'll never give it to you.
But I'm realistic and I know there's nothing I can do to ease this pain or to fly like I used to. I don't have any wings anymore, just mental health issues.
I know it was a game to you, but for me it was my life. It was a game and you won, and I lost myself because of you.
So. Congrats I guess. And bye, too.
I don't forgive you.
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