My own answer to this - once - rhetorical letter is: Come with me, my dear victim

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I blame myself for not only giving you my foot… but stretching myself so hard so that you could reach for my leg!  I gave you an inch and…

Knowing you, my dear ‘victim’, means that your memory will have shredded to tiny little pieces some of the stories I tell in this page - and/or my book - into oblivion.

And, since I wouldn’t be surprised that you don’t take any of this personally, I guess I’ll have to illustrate why I’m here today… let me tell you why I consider myself your number one victim…

• Thanks to me you had a job when no one else hired you… and you ripped me off.
• You beat the crap out of that little boy… and then blamed him.
• Thanks to me you had a roof over your head… and you conspired against me.
• I trusted you with my feelings… and you went on disclosing them.

And I can go on and on until I go blue in the face and you’ll keep indifferent and cold saying: ‘Yeah, but…’, unchanged.  The eternal: ‘Yeah, but…’!

Don’t blame me, your hostile witness, for revealing your evil actions and intentions, tricks and manipulations, when the fault is yours…

Today I’ve said: Enough!  Today I rebel and expose you.  Today… is my turn!

I remain, of course, waiting for your threatening and dangerous answer.

Yours Truly,

I… Victim!

PS: Caught your attention?  This is it!  My dissertation, my lesson, my therapy!  My psychological detox!