backyard crowing
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m-wah, MWAH!
Dear Professor:
I have spent time, lots of time, thinking about how to do right in your class, and in this career path. I have stressed, and cried, and worked, and delved into deep funks. I have laid in my bed, unable to get up in the morning, because I haven't gotten past the shit you brought upon us.
I can't do this anymore, and I am breaking up with you. I have much better things to do with my time and energy. Mourning isn't good for my health or my soul.
At one point, I figured out that I might always think of you, and you might always make me sad. I might never "get over it." That thought gave me great comfort.
Recently, a friend told me I was still angry, and that it was okay to be angry. I had given myself permission to feel sad about your class for the rest of my life, but I had not given myself permission to be angry. I now know that emotion is just as valid, just as okay to feel, for however long I feel it.
Maybe it will be months, or years, before I'm fully "over it." Maybe I will still think of the hurt when I'm retired, or after you're dead, or after I have succeeded. And that's okay. These emotions are a legitimate reaction to the things you said and did.
I don't wish you well, and that's fine. I don't have to.
I'm off to go edit a trailer now. Good morning to me.
1:48 am - Saturday, Oct. 15, 2016
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