[This is part 2 in a series about shitty things I’ve done to people. You can read the original post here.]
Dear First Grade Teacher Whose Name I Don’t Remember,
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEING THE BASIS OF MY ANXIETY DREAMS FOR MANY YEARS. I GET IT; I STOLE SOME OF YOUR POPSICLES ON THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL AND GAVE THEM TO MY FRIENDS AND YOU DIDN’T HAVE ENOUGH FOR YOUR CLASS AS A RESULT. YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO SAY “DON’T YOU EAT ENOUGH ALREADY?!” THAT SHIT GAVE ME A COMPLEX THAT LASTED FOR YEARS AND TRUTH BE TOLD I STILL EXPERIENCE THE RESIDUAL EFFECTS OF THAT SHIT TO THIS DAY. I HOPE YOU’RE IN AN ASSISTED LIVING FACILITY BEING FORCE-FED TAPIOCA PUDDING YOU CRUEL, FAT-SHAMING BITCH.
[I never said there would be a format to these things. I just needed to get that off my chest.]