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I hate for my first letter to be such a negative one, but I can't help it--I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. I can't wait for you to marry Loser Boyfriend A or Loser Boyfriend B, quit your job that your immense intelligence obligates you to hold, have a baby, gain 100 pounds, and live in the suburbs until you die.
God, I hate you.