• Last Minute

    by  • August 10, 2013 • To You • 0 Comments

    As per usual, why don’t you leave your decision to the last possible fucking minute, leaving me stranded, and without a plan? Yay you, are you happy? Proud? Do you feel satisfied now? Nope, I’m going to be scrambling and having to beg relatives for some cash so I can get my own life in order, meanwhile, you’re making plans, and will have a place to go, will have a new life, will be just fucking fine. Me? I’ll be picking up the pieces – again.

    Well, good luck to you. May you never, ever, EVER dare to darken my doorstep again. I don’t want your weepy letters. I don’t want your phone calls, I don’t want anything from you – ever again.

    You are the worst kind, and you have fucked me over for the very last time. Here’s to half of my stuff, again…

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