Letter to Owner

Dear Meat head,

I've made you so much money.
I tried to make you look good.

Everything I did was so that your company would thrive.

In February when I was sick, I told you something so personal; something no one outside my circle knew. I told you that I was bipolar and needed time to get regulated. I told you that I couldn't handle stress, and that I would need to be near a window, and take a break a couple times a day.

You said I should take all the time I needed to get better, and that if ever I feel sick, I should call you directly.

Now, 6 months later, you throw my disorder in my face!? You demonize and vilify me for something I can't control?

You didn't want to pay me for my sick days because you said I used them up, although you know it's not true, and I was sick.

You tell me I'm not durable because I was sick.

I HATE YOU FOR YOUR JUDGMENT!

I HATE YOU FOR NOT PROTECTING ME!

I WISH I COULD WISH MY DISORDER ON YOU TIMES A MILLION!

I didn't choose to have a disorder but you've chosen to be an ASS!

I'm gonna be ok, and you now have liars and thieves to watch your back!

Good riddance to your short, high butt, thinning hair, Carlton dancing, missing side tooth, urkle ASS!

Hmmm
Never go to bed angry, stay awake and plot your revenge.