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You are the reason that I consistently tell my friends that “Potential will kill you”. Friends, puppy love, high school sweethearts, fiance, and now the father of my child. You quite literally had everything at the very tips of your fingers, including me, yet insisted on fcking it up beyond repair. No reason in particular, no method to your madness. I had no need to question why things ended up the way they did. It was simple. You weren’t used to stability, hope, confidence. You never had an example of a healthy relationship, and instead of fighting against the status quo, you took the lazy way out and let history repeat itself.
Being around you is hard for me, mostly because I’m a firm believer in the reason, season, lifetime model of relationships. Your season was over long ago, but we’re inexplicably tied together because of our child. I work diligently to ensure that the both of you have a relationship, and pray that one day you finally get it together, for her sake as well as yours.
You see me changing, and it bothers you to some degree. I’m steeped in positivity, actively working to take care of myself, building a rich life despite, well…everything. You’re not even 30 and have somehow peaked…I want the same for you, but you have to claim it yourself.
I hope 2011 is kind to you, but remember that you only get out what you put in.
I wrote the letter below before I discovered that the ex in question broke into my motherfcking house. While the general sentiment is the same, let me add a small postscript:
You are a bitchmade, hoeass, grimey ass waste of fcking space. The things you stole can be easily replaced, because in case you didn’t notice, I stay fcking winning. However, your visitation rights cannot. Piggy is a GIFT, and when you steal from me, you’re stealing from her. I went to church and prayed for you after finding out what happened, because through everything I’m stronger, wiser. But no worries, because you’ll have, at minimum, 364 days to contemplate your poor choices in prison. Good luck with that.