Dear 1997,
Of all of the years I have lived, you are the year I've hated the most. Why would you attempt to make a comeback in my world knowing the pain and suffering you've caused? I have long since put you in the past where you belong. This doesn't seem to be good enough for your vindictive heart. I am beginning to think you are with the mob and I have been discovered deep within witness protection. But I must tell you, your hitman has only grazed his target. If you plan on strong-arming me again, you will have a serious fight on your hands. I will not relive 1997.
I am much stronger and a whole lot wiser than I was in 1997. You will not be able to defeat my spirit easily, as you did then. So take your weirdness and ruthless attitude and bury yourself in a time capsule with The Spice Girls. I have no need of you.
Defiantly Bitter,
Amy
P.S. If you see my ex-husband, tell him to fuck off too.
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