I didn't get why break ups had to be overly dramatic. Two people loved each other till their united oath cracked under the pressure of doubt and insecurity. They tumbled and turned until there was nobody left instead of finding closure and going their own ways.

In my case, I did nothing wrong. I was the victim in my own highschool; the one that my father owned for the sake of a better education for me and my brother. Yet, I was played. I was devastatingly heartbroken over the frustration of doing nothing wrong, so when you ask me what I felt, it was a one-worded reply.

Used.

The new pencil in my hand promised me to do the job I couldn't do; not break in half like my heart.

The world around me was imprisoned in a glair-white silence, the kids ran along chasing snowballs as they kicked the ice while their parents sipped on Starbacks Christmas Special Toffeenut drink. The waiters provided warmth to those who needed it with their smiles and the pats on the back, the aroma of fresh coffee and the only loner in this stunning picture was myself.

With my usual piece of paper. Only this time, I was on the verge of writing something on the wooden table in Starbucks provided with a view of the kids plowing into the snow.

What could I say?

I decided to choose improvision for the day. I placed the pencil on the beginning of the page and allowed my heart to write. I decided to write his name this time because it was uglier than the other curses.

He was my repulsive curse.

Dear Lucas,

You fucking tore me apart and I had to mend myself with little time before I go off on my journey, I just wanted you to know that I hate you with all my heart. You have used me in an inhumane way and threw me like I fucking didn't mean anything to you, I didn't even do anything wrong -

Splotch. Splotch.

It wasn't snow. It was my tears again.

"Hey, are you alright there?" The blonde-haired waitress pressed a hand on my coated shoulder when she asked me kindly.

"Y-Yes, just remembering November." I simply composed myself in a nutshell and she seemed confused for a moment when she glanced at me to see that I became an aftermath of ugly crying. The sunshine to the fake rain.

"Don't let anyone get away with hurting you." She gave me advice with a thin-lipped smile and eyes coated with hurt, going to the other customers.

I recognized her from before, she was the one that got fired from the other branch while I walked by yesterday. I could only make out her figure when she flailed her arms at her manager and the manager shook his head in disappointment.

Maybe she got into trouble with a customer. I was glad that she got hired back anyway.

She was correct about something though, I shouldn't let him get away with hurting me.

I was going to show him my real ideal worth and he wasn't going to know what hit him. I started to write again without any extra tears spent.

Dear Lucas,

I write this to you as my first hate letter ever. Don't you worry, you will be receiving a lot more from me. I will make you live through hell just the way you made me live it. Welcome to your first ever hate letter, I will make your filthy true colors show and I will not back down until you become ruined and empty.

I don't know what made you think that you have control or that you are something in life. Trust me, you're not and you're never going to be valid. I hope Karma bites you in the ass while I do my own job of ruining you with your closest friends.

Have fun trying to know me because you will never, ever find me. You're going down to hell with me.

Fuck you. Sincerely, your hater.

-Anon.

I wrote down my smudged paper with the tears he broke me with.

I couldn't believe that I wrote this in a matter of seconds. I placed the paper into an envelope neatly and smiled at myself in pride.

The blonde waitress, which seemed to be similar to me by age, waved at me and I waved back while smiling at her. She was a source of inspiration, I had to make a mental note to thank her later since she was busy catering for people.

My black sneakers were comfortable when I ran back to my house with my bag in hand. I was still on vacation mode but what better vacation would I have if I didn't spend it setting a plan to exterminate Lucas's life?

Exactly. Nothing.

I stormed into my room as soon as dad opened the door for me, we lived in a moderate all-American house with three bedrooms and a living room matching with the small kitchen.

It was only me, dad and my brother Khai. Khai was mostly the affected one by mom's death. As for me, I only recognized her from pictures since I didn't remember her. I depended on Khai to tell me stories about her.

I was only four when she died. I tried to unlock the blurry images in my mind but I couldn't remember. I felt guilty for not knowing my own mother but my brother and dad took the end of the hit.

The bags were aligned on the side of my room to be shipped to the Bridgewater State College by tonight and I only had a cleaned white bed with little clothes left.

I wasn't going to miss my room. Not now, not ever-it was not a solution to miss it. It used to be a nice memory when we would all be huddled up together on my bed relating to Sam Smith music; just me and Khai and dad, in a world filled with traitors. Lucas' memoriee burned my room with lousy memories of us kissing and universal love promises on the same bed.

It wasn't rightfully his to take the memories I had with my family; the ones I willed myself to share for the sake of being a good girlfriend.

Now I just sat there, ready to go but still sitting here.

Remembering November. The month where I and him were something the world would be jealous of.