Those words that he had said chimed into my head, I hate you.I wish I never met you.I hope you go to hell.
I looked outside my window and saw in the rain,a little girl who was struggling to keep up with the rest of the group she was with.”I’m know how you feel,”I whispered,the words rolling off my tounge.I looked down at the window frame and picked at the peeling white paint.
A tear shed from my eye.I quickly wiped it away,but I knew more tears were coming.
I recalled the slam of the door that he shut in my face and I recalled the way his voice sounded when he yelled.So much hate.So much hurt.So much sadness.
He gave me a letter the next day that I wished the postage lost.
The same words that he yelled were scambled all over the page.I decided to play his game.I picked up a pen and wrote on a lined piece of paper,
My Dear Disaster,
The same hopes that you have for me I have for you. The same hatred that you have for me I have for you. We are the same. We are even. We are the followers of the devil.