The Plague of You

Days and weeks after you’ve been gone there are still signs of you. Nothing good, of course, that would be a false sense of hope. No. Everything you’ve left behind is a mess for me to clean up. Why couldn’t you have done something useful for once?

The clean up began weeks ago, I thought I was done. How wrong I was. Everywhere I look there’s a small piece of you there. Disgusting. How can someone who had only been around for a few months leave such a mess behind? Why has life cursed me with beings like you?

Everyday is like my own personal hell. Thanks to you. Eventually I will be able to clean up the last of your mess, and I will celebrate. That day could not come soon enough. My hell will be of my own creation after that. I can return to the comforts of my personal hell den. I look forward to that day.

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