• You need to fess up whoever the fuck you are.

    by  • June 24, 2011 • Anger • 0 Comments

    You are a sick person.
    You really are.
    Whoever you are, you know how that word “Whore” hurts me.
    And for it to be branded on my front window?
    Where my neighbors and my mother can see it?
    You’re sick.
    And you keep telling me I’m in trouble, and I’m going to get mine eventually.
    I’m in trouble? FOR WHAT?
    You’re threatening me, telling me that I’m in trouble because I was defended when I should have been prosecuted.
    That’s love, baby. People defend the one’s they’re with.
    They defended me because they cared for me, and no one deserves to be punished for caring for someone
    If you’re going to hurt me, at least make sure its for something worthwhile.
    You’ve got me so fucking scared to even leave my house, or go to sleep alone at night.
    I feel like I have to purchase a gun.
    Another thing: Leave my family out of this.
    You know damn fucking well, that’s not my house. You KNOW that’s a family members,
    You desecrated our property, and thanks to YOU my mother thinks I’m a whore.
    Whoever the fuck you are, and whatever your problem is with me, keep it away from my family.
    Keep it away from who I’m with.
    And just keep away from me.
    I’m sorry for whatever the fuck I did to you, or this person that defended me that deserves us both to be hurt.
    It can’t be that bad. It’s not that bad.
    I am not. A. Whore.
    When I date someone, I stay with that ONE person.
    I cheated on her, you know why? Cause she BEAT ME. She CHOKED ME. SHE HELD A KNIFE TO MY THROAT.
    And I thought that was the only fucking way to get rid of her.
    I’m faithful if you’re faithful, and I can trust you.
    You know my number, you know where I live, don’t you know my personality?
    You know that I’m going to dwell on this for ages, until it can be dwelled on no more.
    You know that this shit gets to me.
    And only a select few know my hatred of bad things.
    Of hate, in general.
    They will find you, mother fucker.
    And if they don’t, I will.
    And I swear to God, I’ll bash your head in, if you don’t stay the fuck away from me from here on out.
    I will make you squirm, I will make you twitch.
    Hell, I’ll tag your fucking house.
    Leave me alone.
    I want the ability to be able to fall asleep in my own house, and feel safe.
    I want to be able to leave my house, and not have to worry about coming back to a broken window, or worse.
    I’m beyond livid at you, and I don’t even know you.
    That’s fucking crazy.
    Once again, you’re sick. Leave me alone.

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