Dorothy Friedrichs (1910-1978)
I ask that you withhold your frozen snot and spew no filth upon my wedding dress. Your resolutions fill me with disgust. I wonder why I kissed you even once.
Pathetically, you think it bothers me that you feel bitter, broken, lost, betrayed. Listen here, oh Jacob, honey, dear: your plight’s beneath me, and I do not care.