Dear Linnie,
I'm done. I'm so done with your ass it's not even funny. I took some time to think about it and I've decided it was time for me to leave your bitch ass once and for all. You were never the man I loved; you were merely the one I had sex with.
I'm sure you're wondering what had lead me to make this decision and unlike you, I am not an evil person so I'll tell you. I hope this letter here helps you reflect on your shitty actions because you as shit need it.
First off, as I mentioned, you were never the man that I had loved. You remember that blue haired man that I was with when you had the nerve to fucking barge in on? His name is Arthur. Believe it or not, we were married for about a year and a half before he decided to cheat on me with some slut he decided to call his wife. When we had first met, it was our first year of being divorced, and it seemed like no matter where I looked, his bitch ass was busy sucking on her whore face. Oh, how I wish I could skin it off, but they're off in some other town and I'm too busy with my work schedule to go over there, so here we are. You know, all you men are really a work of fucking art, aren't you? You think you can go around and manipulate us poor women like that. We are not your fucking sex objects, Linnie! We deserve better than this.
Speaking of sex, I also couldn't help but notice that ever since you came back into town from god knows where, you've started spending an awful lot of time with that ugly ass, blond check, (Adele?? Delia?? What the fuck ever). You know what, I don't really like the way you look at her, and quite frankly, I don't understand why you didn't fucking tell me about her. For a man that stands there and accuses me of cheating every damn second of the day, you sure do a lot of running around yourself. I'm surprised you and that Delia bitch don't have children of your own. It'd explain how you managed to get pregnant so many fucking times. I always guessed those bastard children weren't mine. I would never have managed to pass on dumbass genes like you did.
And that's another thing! You are so fucking pathetic in bed, it's almost hilarious! You know, sex is supposed to be enjoyable but all you fucking do is complain and bitch, telling me to get off and shit! No, first off, mister! It's my fucking house! If I tell you I want sex, you're gonna fucking do it. I don't give a shit how you feel. You don't pay any bills around here! And until you do that, I'll have sex with you any damn time I want.
Well...scratch that. At this point, it doesn't even matter since I'll be hiring an attorney so we can get started on divorce papers. You know, you're damn lucky I don't have any evidence on you. Otherwise, I'd make sure you rot in prison where you belong, you insect.
Anyways, secondly, I really don't understand why you couldn't get fucking birth control. Your fucking job should have given you some sort of health insurance; you could have gotten that shit. But N, you just HAD to have our "precious children", as you put it. I never wanted children with you Linnie, and I thought I had made that perfectly clear, but I guess not. I guess protective sex is too much to ask for Princess Linnie, who thinks everything is about him! (Btw sir, you still owe me an apology for Cosmo's birth and the way you acted in the hospital...and you still owe me a shit ton of money from getting you your stupid pads and tampons. Damn, how heavy are you?)
On another note, let's talk about our children, shall we? You're so fucking soft on them, and for what? You realize that you keep spoiling them, they're gonna walk all over you just like you let everyone else. Shit...
You know what, I don't have much else to say right now. It's 4 in the morning and I have to leave for fucking work in 3 hours, so I'll just send you another letter later. For right now, I'm tired and I'm just so sick and tired of you.
Go fuck yourself,
Nora
