the devil and his posse.

Stolen.

Stolen is the only word I can use to begin to describe your work. Your success. Your future.

Everything you have, is attributed to me. Every idea you have pursued was mine before it was yours – before I gave it to you.

Disrespect, disgust and utter disappointment is all I see when you come across my field of vision. You trigger a physical reaction within me, beyond throwing up, beyond slitting my own wrists – you make me want to react in a way that hasn’t even been invented yet. That is how much you have disappointed me.

You terrorized my nightmares. You made my own fears, fears that have been mine since childhood, look cowardice in your wake. And yet, you think are doing nothing but riding high, and going up.

I cannot wait for you to come down, you and your posse. I cannot wait for karma to have her sweet vengeance with you; that will be the sight of the century.

And I will be front row, with popcorn, ready to be rewarded for surviving the devil that is you.