Hey there, pathetic-loser-whose-self-involvement-knows-no-bounds, how’s it going?
I hope you’re well.
Not really, because I basically hate you. Although, I’d like you to be the first to know that I hate you a little less with each day.
We’ve come a long way. I realized, as I got older, that you couldn’t help being such a bitch. You just weren’t mature. It’s not your fault. I want to say, honestly, I think that you’ve grown a lot over the past few years. Still doesn’t change the fact that you really screwed me over.
Number 1: You always held the stupid things I’ve done over my head. Like how I once — ONCE! — told a date his major sucked and blew my chances with a Total Hunk. But I always found ways to turn it right back around onto you. Like the time you hooked up with that guy at the party just to make that pasty guy Kyle jealous, remember that? I got you back by spreading it around school the next day. I know, that was mean, but it taught you a lesson, didn’t it?
Number 2: You sabotaged everything good I tried to do for myself. You would not shut up about how much my personal essay sucked, and so I never did apply to Emory. I could’ve had a school that people freakin’ know on my resumé. And remember the time that I really wanted to apply to that major art festival? You made me sit up with you all night fretting…
