Dear Ex Crush

Dear _______,
What the effing crap was wrong with me? For some crazy reason, some right brain reaction, I thought I saw something in you. Something tangible. Something respectable. Something... worth the pain.
I see now that you're really just a shell. A really thick shell that most people look at and assume is whole. I don't mean that you've been damaged or that you don't let people in. It's just that there's nothing there.
You're relatively popular, but past the racist, sexist jokes, everything's blank. There's this part of you where your soul, morals and goals should be, but I don't think you've ever thought it was worth your time to bother realizing your worth as a person.
A blank canvas lays inside you, and all around you are all of the beautiful colors and intricate tools you could ever need to paint a breathtaking picture. But you choose to leave that space vacant.
I guess the only thing you've got going for you is that that canvas has a permanent Sticking Charm on it more powerful than the one keeping Sirius's dear mum firmly attached to the wall of Number 12, Grimauld Place.
You can act like it's not there. Go ahead, ignore it as much as you want to, but it will always be there, its infinite presence gnawing at your shell.
Have fun with that.

Sincerely,
Bridget