I will be forever changed.

I want to tell you where you messed up, so maybe you have a chance to get it right next time, with somebody else.

Maybe what you did to me didn’t seem like such a big deal to you. You’re probably young enough that you can say you have your whole life ahead of you, but as we recently established (quite by accident on my part), I can’t say the same thing.

Apparently, my best years are behind me.

I want to call you out for your audacity. What utter NERVE you must have, to do what you did to me, and seemingly without a care in the world, and certainly with no regret.

When you called, I hung up on you.

I had nothing to say.

It was as if a freight train hit me going ninety miles an hour and I couldn’t catch my breath or think of one thing to say back to you—at least one thing that was nice enough to say.

Mama always said, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all,” and I would like to blame my strangled silence on that well-used phrase, for lack of anything better to blame it on.

I was overwhelmed and cheated out of all I thought I was and all I’m trying to be.

And you had to say what you said.

I could hear the words just burst forth from you like a river jumping its banks and spilling over on everything in its new path.

Once something like that is said, you can never take it back.

I felt betrayed—betrayed by you and betrayed by life. Betrayed by myself and the mirror I look into to gauge my place in society.

Is this who I am now? Who I am to you and the rest of the world, and who I am supposed to be to myself? Is this what it has all come down to?

I’m sure you’ve already forgotten me and my gasp of disbelief and incredulity, along with the trailing silence which ended up being louder than a tornado tearing through my house and throwing my useless body against whatever wall was left.

You may have forgotten, but I never will. How could I forget the sound and the cruelty of your words, when each syllable you uttered echoed in my ears and will continue to echo until I can’t hear anymore? How can I forgive you?

I usually don’t even answer the phone because spam calls threaten to drown me like the flood of Noah. I answered YOUR call though. I answered because I thought you might have something good, something WORTHY to say to me, but no. You called to say the words that will forever haunt me, at least for however long I have left.

“Hi! This is Hazel with your old age benefits…”

Thanks Hazel. You’ve just ruined my life.