For keeping me awake when I wanted to sleep, night after night after night.
For forcing me wear jeans rather than short skirts, shirts rather than halter-necks.
For invoking my anger, my frustration, my tears.
For ruining every vacation I’ve taken with your inescapable presence.
For making me thirst for your blood, as you do for mine.
Fuck off and die, Mosquito, fuck off and bloody die.