I miss you. Miss you so badly. But not you, not really. I just miss having you around, you little punching bag. Pounding on somebody else is not as gratifying as stomping on your pride. And did I mention how I love it whenever I froth in the mouth with all the swear words I know because of you?
I'd die to see you again. See you writhe in pain at the sight of me whenever you remember. And you know what I like the most? When you spread malicious things about me because YOU can't face who you really are. Because then I know it's time for me to retaliate and inflict pain all over again.
Ahh, those were the days..
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