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Dear Tatum,

As much as it pains me to spend more time thinking about you and your less-than-desirable.

.. well, everything, Megan told me she thinks it’d be helpful to write out my feelings.

And trust me, little buddy, there’s a lot going on here.

Now, usually, I’d push back against my lovely therapist when it comes to you, but, for some reason, Nelson, my boxing coach, is in on this too.

Apparently, my feelings toward you are causing some pent-up aggression on my end.

So I’m making a list of all the reasons I hate you. Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

The unfortunate day I first met you... You came into my house and didn’t even say, “hi." Then you wrestled your brother, who happens to be one of the hockey players I’m semi-responsible for keeping in game-day shape, to the ground and refused to get off until he said, “Uncle.” You didn’t even give my best friend a chance before you decided she was a horrible person and, for reasons beyond my understanding, told her she wasn’t worth getting to know.

How miserable of a person do you have to be to talk to someone like that?

You semi-redeemed yourself when you defended her at the carnival.

Your brother, who I love dearly, decided to be an idiot.

And because of the way you made her feel like an outsider, when he did what he did, she took off.

You never apologized for the part you played in her disappearing act and th e mental distress that fiasco caused me.

You’ve made it your life’s mission to push every button I have.

Every week, I have to endure your ridiculous glares and unrelenting need to play devil’s advocate to everything I say.

Now, you’ll never see this because Megan and I are going to rip it up at my next therapy session, but I feel two hundred pounds lighter after getting all that out. Maybe she’s actually on to something.

Hate you forever,

Abby.