Dear Ms. XX,

All I have to say to you is how much I loath you. This feeling has been growing in my chest for many many months now. It makes my blood boil and causes my blood pressure to rise. I was appalled by your childish behavior. You stomped your feet and plugged your ears to reason and thought. You denied yourself more humane ideals because you're a petulant child that can't comprehend your view is flawed. You can't escape the unpleasant things in life. Not once while I loved you did you learn. Truly, it was disgusting. I can honestly say I'm happy to be free of the curse that is you, you wretched wretched woman.

I catered to you. I tried not to upset you, but the one time I had a wanted a conversation that was tangibly meaningful you denied me that. I view myself as a pillar of philosophy. I don't have time to waste on drivel that means jack all, and I regret having wasted any time at all. One of the things I hate is time wasted; needless to say you've racked up much distain from me for wasting my time. I'm sorely disappointed in myself for letting that happen. Obviously, I was stupid, but at least I can learn from my mistakes unlike you. You do not take advice. You're stubborn about the wrong things.

Don't expect me to be your friend after this. Don't expect us to be lovers ever again. Don't even expect us to be acquaintances. I will strike you from my memory as Big Brother struck away history from their records. I cannot let slide the fact you broke a promise to me one to many times. I put my faith in you to follow through; I tried to be understanding and lenient, but you kept doing it. It was broken promise after broken promise. I wish I was saying this all to your face, but alas a fault of mine is I am a coward. That is why I write this note now. I will be gone from your life, and don't you dare enter mine again. I don't how to make I despise you any blunter without resorting to insults and name calling.

-Mr. XY

He left the note upon the dresser, his face convulsing with disgust at the site of the woman sleeping. Truly, he had wasted his heart. He turned away with disdain. With his suitcase in hand he left the house.

It was a cool summer night. The full moon shined down on him, it's reflected light making a shadow on the pavement. Into the night he walked, feeling freer than a bird. His shoulders were less tense than they had been in weeks, and the awful ache in his chest was gone. He could finally let go and be free, free from the woman who threw his compliments away and never understood how much it hurt despite it being so evident on his face. He had loved her, but she hadn't done the same. It was childish he knew to leave a note so spiteful, but for once he had to show just how much hurt she had caused. He struggled to help make her happy, and she never took his help. She never mentioned him to her friends. He felt like he didn't exist to her. He felt like he was nothing. This was his last attempt to be something to her even if it was as the one who was an arse to her.

The next morning she woke up, the covers slipping down her naked torso.

"Mr. XY?" she called, looking bearily around the room.

There was no answer. She called again. No answer.

She got out of bed, wrapping the blanket around her. As she looked around the room, a piece of paper on her dresser caught her attention. Quietly, she padded over to it, picking it up gently. Her eyes traveled across the letters, tearing up as they read more and more. By the end she was a sobbing mess on the floor, wailing into her blankets. Oh what had she done? Oh what had she done?

"No. No. No. No. No!"

Her sobbing got harder, her hiccuping breaths coming faster and faster. She tried, she tried so hard to breathe slower. She wanted the ache in her chest to go away. She wanted her head to stop hurting.

"Why? Why?! Where did I go wrong?!"

The sun was shining as he drove down the highway. He was halfway out of the city. Soon he would be hitting open country road to the next town; on the radio they played "You Give Love a Bad Name," and he couldn't help bobbing his head to the beat. It was a new day, and the sun was shining.