Dear You (Unsent Letters)
Even though you know nothing about me nowadays, and you have not an inkling of proof, you still feel the need to make your accusations. You still have to send accusations to me from me different angles. You still have to accuse me of the same thing over and over and over again. It's as if you're either trying to convince me that I am what you say that I am, or you're trying to convince yourself.
If I truly am who I say that I am, then that means you made a gross error, and everything foul that you did was for naught. But if I am who you are trying to say that I am, then I guess in your sick and twisted mind, everything that you did was okay.
The reality is that you're still wrong whether I'm the continuously sinful hypocrite that you're accusing me of being, or I'm not. You are still wrong. You were still wrong.
You can accuse me of such things by any person, means, method, language, or action that you like. It's still not going to make me such a person. Your witchcraft no longer works on me. All you're doing is binding the wickedness to yourself even more. Every time you try to curse me with those accusations, I boomerang them right back to you.
I will never do any of those things that you accuse me of doing. I have never done any of those things you accuse me of doing. So that just goes to show that you don't know me, you never knew me, and your thought process is so evil that you can't even grasp the concept that people don't have to do wicked things to earn money to make a living.
We all have choices, and no one has to do that. That's something that I would make the choice not to do under any circumstance, even if extreme pain was being inflicted on me. My choice not to live like that would be the same every single time. I would die before I would partake in such things.
I'm sorry that you don't understand that all women are not like that, but your sickness should no longer be my problem. I'm really growing tired of these repetitive accusations. Please, please, please find something else to do with your time. You are never going to catch me doing these things, and you're never going to make them true no matter how many times you repeat them to yourself or to me. You're wrong. You're just plain...wrong. Just...stop.