Dear... Santa
We were meant to be together, but you cheated on me. Every day of every year. It's her making cookies in your kitchen and not me. I don't want to hate someone I've never met, but how can I refrain from doing so when she goes to sleep every night content, knowing you love her. And I lay awake until the darker memories pull me into their dark places, trample me, and then spit me out again in the morning. This is a threat. I, like everyone, knows where you and she live.
I will have my revenge on Mrs Claus.