I suffered long from your abuse. You had a sway that was more toxic than influential and you controlled me. Others have told me you fucked them over in the same way, too. What is it inside of you? A need to dominate and manipulate because your own faculty of control in your life has disintegrated? I fear even the thought and memory of you, and I still hate your name and hair. We competed needlessly for some pitiful bounty of nameless awards. I thought our friendship was pure until you pulled your shit.
You always claimed you made me who I am, but it was a pitiful claim. I have more in me of ideas than of people I have encountered composing my structure. I entirely hope you are far away from here. However, I do not wish you ill. Your intelligence has always frightened me and I know you could be successful if you used your superpowers for good. I once thought I had loved you. I revered you, so vainly, and without discretion. How did you do that to me? How do you work your illicit charm? You deserve a major transformation before we reunite for our final battle—whenever and wherever that will be. You have haunted me and my social life for years. Only now do I have my own voice, bitch.