You do know that I have analytics on my site, right? How on earth did you find me? Instagram? Facebook? I have screen shots of yesterday’s frenetic progression of your online activity from the beginning at an already alarming number of views to the end at a staggering 289 views. And you were the only visitor so there is no way that you can say that it wasn’t just you. I have screen shots from today as well. Not as frenetic, but pretty effed up.
Were you home sick yesterday? Or were you using your company’s time and laptop to stalk me online? I don’t think they’d be too happy to hear about this. You need to stop. You have already taken everything you possibly could from me. What more do you want?
Can’t you read what I’ve written and see how sad and broken and hurt I am? And by YOUR actions and words. Do you even care? Are you at all sorry? I loved you and you purposely destroyed me for that. I tried so many times to do things the right way. Like a Price is Right game where if you put all the numbers in the correct place, you win a car. Only I never got it right. Because that fucking number of yours kept changing.
What I want more than anything is for you to tell me you are sorry. Can you do that? Can you tell me, “Jenny, I am so so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of this.” If you can, do it now. Write it in the sky, put it in a letter, hang minions from my tree. We are on this earth for just a minute after all and at the very least I deserve that. And if you can’t, I am begging you to please leave me alone.