Your Ugliness

First thing this morning your words bombarded me. They slapped my face. They punched my gut. They knocked me over. They hurt me. Your words are venemous. If you were a snake, and approached me in this manner, I would kill you quickly. You are so ugly. And mean. And at times menacing. When you look in the mirror, do you see your face? Do you know how ugly you have become? Do you see your unhappiness? Do you see your grief? Do you know how horrible you are to me? How this reflects on you? You appear older now then ever before. And you are a sorry figure indeed. I wish you were not so ugly. And so unpleasant. And so bitter and so unfeeling. Your rage and your hatred are so deep, like a bottomless pit of quicksand. And I am so grateful it did not rub off on me. I knew you had ugliness in you long ago. But I never thought you would so openly be it each day and each night. I feel sorry for your ugliness. I feel sorry for who you have become. You are a sad man indeed. When I leave this house, I will be glad to leave your ugliness behind. Gladly. Willingly. Gratefully. And you will be alone again. And still ugly. But that is you. And you will never change. And that is tragic. Because you are a human being. Bye very soon.
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Nov 30, 2012