Dear -—-,

You must like to comfort yourself with the assumption that I’m sorry for what I did to you.

You must sit by the fireplace on a cold night, nursing a mug of cocoa, imagining a scenario where I’m beating myself up, ripping my hair out, screaming in anguish, drinking to numb the pain of the guilt about what I did to you in Year 11.

You must smirk the slyest, most self-satisfied, self-angrandising smirk that has ever been known to exist in the entire history of the planet, at this daydream and nightdream you surely must have.

Well, let me put your mind at rest:

I’M SORRY.

Sorry for not humilating you more than I already did!

The truth is that my life is positively brilliant!
I’m as happy as Happy Larry, the happiest man in the whole entirety of Happyville, Smileytown, US-YAY!

So please:
Do not concern yourself with how my life has unravelled – because it hasn’t!
In fact, ever since I revealed those photos of you with Mrs Jones to the whole school, my life has run so much smoother…