Every year now, around the winter holidays, I get sharp headaches as though someone stepped inside a room full of people chattering about the weather. Here I am now having a bloody headache wondering why can’t these people just shut up and keep their thoughts off about me. Too bad you won’t receive a postcard from me, and neither was I nor will I ever be an invitee at your Christmas Eve dinner parody. Suckers.
They are obsessed with me.
Stranger; “What’s so funny.”
Me; “An ex who still whines about you even after you’ve gone off the map for over a year—and I just feel like it’s pretty fucking hilarious isn’t it—shut the fuck up.”