Just another day on the Sinwagon

So is this what you plan on doing, just blowing me off like this.  I would like for you to tell me what did I do to you????????????????????????????.  Thank you for the Birthday card and Mother’s day card.  I really look forward to them every year from you.  Oh, thats right, I am the last one on your list.  Well I will tell you that you will regret this one of these days.  The next move is yours.

Your Mother

Dear Egg Donor,

Yes, this is exactly what I plan on doing, just blowing you off.  Isn’t it just driving your crazy? Like a pin prick in your skin, poking you over and over and over again?  I’m laughing at your predictability; I want you to know that.  You have no idea what to do with yourself when someone won’t fight with you, do you? You have no idea how to handle life, when someone isn’t giving you a chance to yell at them, do you?

Oh, I never thought having this much control over you could be so fun, look what I’ve been missing out on my entire life!  You spent the better half of my childhood blowing me off; I guess turnabout is fair fucking play, isn’t it?  Don’t like the cold shoulder? Good, I hope it hurts; in fact I’m glad it hurts.  I don’t feel remorse for removing myself from the situation. I don’t feel sad because I don’t have a mother who I never had in the first place. I don’t feel guilty because you’re feeling left out of my life. Sorry, guess I’m just a cold hearted bitch, or maybe I’m just tired of your fucking mouth and your bullshit?

Maybe I’m just tired of your double-fucking-standards and your pity me, pathetic, fuck you tactics to try and win something back that never existed in the first place.  Let’s be frank with each other.  You don’t like me, I don’t like you, my children don’t like you and the only reason you’re emailing me is to try and regain your foothold of control in the relationship.  Well guess what?  I’ve taken away all of your control, and you can email me as many times as you want, and I’ll just continue to ignore them, again…and again…and again.  And perhaps one day you’ll realize and accept that I just don’t need your drama, your hate and your anger as a part of my and my children’s lives.  In fact, not only do I not need it, but I refuse to allow it in.

Your poison, your whole bloodline is poison, no wonder my dad got out when he could, you’re fucking crazy the lot of you.  I’ve –just- started getting myself under control, -just- started settling out my life and turning it into what I want it to be and I will be damned if you’re going to come back in with your disapproving frown and your 8^th grade education and tell me that I’m not doing it your way.  Obviously, your way was the wrong way.  Take a nice long look around at yourself, your life and your husband. You’re miserable, your life is unhappy, your only child doesn’t speak to you and you have no contact with your grandchildren.

You’re worthless because you choose to be, and I don’t associate with worthless, unintelligent trailer trash.  So I guess that rules you and the rest of those white trash bastards right out, doesn’t it?

Do you lie in bed and cry at night?  Good.

Do you look at my pictures and become sad? Good.

Does it hurt like a knife in your heart, knowing that you mean so little to me that I can discard you like a piece of trash? Good.

Now you’re getting a fucking taste of what you fucking did to me.

Have a nice life,

Fayne

PS.  Your husband smokes pot behind your back. Second shelf of the pump house on the left hand side as you walk in. If you’d waddle your fat ass away from the couch long enough to look around you might actually see it.