This false persona you wake up to every day must be so exhausting. Your vampirish skin tone is probably liver damage from drinking yourself into oblivion daily. Paranoid freak with no need for human physical contact and you say this with pride. The grandiosity and mystery – there is nothing there. Your poor wife. You married to appear “normal”. Her eyes are sad and her soul is demolished. She was your sacrificial lamb. I am sure she cringes when she hears you turn the key. Living with you must be hell on earth. I will bet my bottom dollar you are probably drunk every night. You are probably drunk right now. I have overheard some of your conversations with her. The verbal abuse, emotional abuse, and I dread to think what physical abuse she may endure at your weak powerless hand. You refer to marriage as a contract with restrictions. What restrictions? You do whatever the fuck you want whenever you want because she isn’t going anywhere. You come home at midnight every night. Of course she sees every woman is a threat. Why? She knows no one is off limits to you, you pig. You are an emotional criminal. You stole her happiness, slaughtered her soul and killed her spirit. She looked so happy in your wedding picture on your desk. She is tired. She hates you.
Were we “friends” for 10 years? No. I was a walking target in the making – anything wearing a skirt is (although I am not 100% certain you are NOT gay). I never did give you a second look. You are very frat boyish for a man-boy with an Ivy League degree. What you didn’t know was that I had a degree in Criminology – psychology of the criminal mind. Probably thought I wasn’t very intelligent. Just very attractive. This would be easy for you. You told me the first time you saw me I was wearing yellow, you would never forget, I left such an impression on you. Bullshit – I hate yellow. I don’t own anything yellow. Last year you attempted to entangle me. You knew I was recently remarried, you knew I was happy. You hoped you’d change that. Destroy me like emotional criminal you are. You hated that I was and always will be a happy woman, complete, fulfilled with no self-esteem or self-worth issues. You knew that a lot of very wealthy single men in the workplace had asked me out between marriages. I didn’t accept the invites. I don’t mix business with pleasure. I became your next target. Who knows how many poor souls have actually fallen for your bullshit? You pontificate, you don’t converse. You lecture, you don’t listen. You anger so quickly. I put you to the test. Your eyes glistened thinking you had my attention. I turned the tables on you. Now you would feel what you make all the women feel. You became MY project. CASE #17/NARCOS. I had studied “people” like you but had never come across one that would attempt entangling me. HG confirmed what you were. You would love to know who HG is wouldn’t you? Perhaps he is the reason I am not interested in you. He finished confirming what you were. This will mentally torture you, Narcos. Who is he? Who the hell is HG? Where did he come from? I am sure you will ask around.
Nothing works. You can’t get my attention. No fuel. You ignore me for weeks on end, like you matter. You hope I will come looking for you. When that doesn’t work you come looking for me. Yep, you still don’t matter. You are now incredibly angry, plotting revenge as your random messages to me go unanswered. You text me telling me where my car is parked in a garage that houses 17 floors. You know my license tag number. FREAK. How DARE I not answer your messages? Easy. Slide/Delete. All those contain is more bullshit. Your fingers must be so tired from typing. Your soul is black. When nothing worked you told me I was a Malkina, soulless. No Narcos, that is you. That’s called projection.
In seeking to destroy me, you destroyed yourself. I am just a reminder of what a loser you are. Not only did you not achieve entangling me in your web of deception, I now know what you are. Your life is a game.