dear horcrux experiment number 4,
i know i said rest in peace, and as someone who is usually very sure of their words i do apologize for my indecisiveness, but i take it back. rest in fucking misery. rest in hell. get out of my head, and my mind, and my consciousness, and my soul, and stay dead. stop haunting me.
who am i kidding? if there is a hell, you are certainly not going. for why would i pick someone so similar to me. i'm not boring, you said it yourself. did you know that many people quote dead loved ones in their letters to them? you're not a loved one, but the way you praised my intellect and skill seems worth quoting. maybe only to me.
this isn't one of those terrible horror movies you made me watch with the bad effects. we re-enacted the scenes and skipped to my favorite parts (your least) and now your movie is over. a shame i won't get named for all my work in the credits, but we all have to cut out losses somewhere.
it's difficult to move ahead with number 5 when your stomping around the room with weightless steps that don't (and never did) make a sound and flailing arms as you scream at me. your dancing around me and scratching and hitting and all i feel is cold air. it's been months, move on. one of us should.
get out of my head. i've fucking fixated on you and no matter what i do i can't seem to stop. you've taken over my mind and sprouted a seed with your wretched ideas on philosophy. i wish they would've died with you.
i wish you would've learned a better definition of dead.
wishing you my absolute worst from the land of the living,
tom riddle