Letter From the Jailor #3

I’m not that nice.

Hehehe. Having trouble, are we?

You can’t type. You can’t read. You can’t understand simple instructions. Every sound makes you want to cry, so you put on headphones and listen to loud music. Cause that makes sense. Idiot.

You can’t understand the kids, because you can’t empathize with their problems. You are a terrible parent.

Jenny touches you, and you just want to cry, because she’s so perfect. Too perfect for you. You are a burden on her, you know that?

You hide yourself inside a shell, and refuse to come out. Hell, you went back to bed in the middle of the day. Hours of the day wasted, all because you “needed a break.”

You are only eating because your brain keeps telling you to fill your mouth up. Can’t you eat something more complicated than a package of cookies? Oh, gummy bears, yeah. That’s healthy. *eyeroll* Can’t you just cook yourself something, or God forbid, eat a fucking bowl of cereal?

What a joke. Don’t you understand? You are a total mess. You will never be free. You are in a prison inside your own head. Trapped, you will never be free. You belong to me, and you are my toy.

Hours spent playing games on your phone. The worst writing of your life, and you just submitted it, because you have a deadline. You are going to be fired within the week. What’s that? Oh, you have consulting co-workers. They helped? Ha! They are sabotaging you, dummy. They don’t want to work with someone who has no creativity, no drive.

Your therapist quit her job. Probably because people like you made her crazy.

You are a fat slob.
You didn’t even fix your hair. Well, you aren’t seeing anyone today, so who cares?
You feel tired, and nothing seems to work.
You are broken, and there’s no toolbox in the world which may fix you.
Can’t you shave for God’s sake?
I don’t know why you bother with meds and vitamins. They don’t help.
How could they?
Past fixing, past pity, past shame.
You just sit there, in clothes too big for you, feeling bad for yourself.
DO something, you lazy cow.
Blame everyone else. They deserve it.
They don’t actually love you, you know.
You are a walking joke, and everyone is laughing except you.
Don’t you get it?
Don’t you want to be someone else?
Why don’t you run? Run from who you are.
Never come back.
Maybe then, people will forget you.
Maybe if nobody remembers you, nobody will laugh.
Don’t you hate yourself?

Loser.