Look up fucked up in the dictionary – our relationship has to be there.
Month 3 of MY life after you. Here I sit, by the beach…cold beer in hand, cell phone and laptop in the other. Each day I realize how disturbed you are, and it just hurts me more and more. Why weren’t you like I pictured, and why didn’t it go to like I planned.
Some days, when I am not doing anything – I think of you. And I don’t know what to feel about it anymore. You were my love, I hope you know that. Say all you want that it was me that destroyed it…but lets be real here. You did. You and your insecurity… and just your fucked up life. I really hope you don’t live here anymore. Because if I bump into you…I am going to feel bad for you. Your hair looked like shit, and you dressed like an idiot….I guess it fits you. Wear it well slut.
You didn’t give me herpes, but you feel like one…just a sore that wont go away. Your an enigma… cruel to say to someone so damaged. But you… you are just fucked up.
There are many replacements lined up – and right now, none are good enough. Life goes on, and I hope your not here. If you ever get normal… I would love to meet that version, because what I got was just fake and disturbed. Best of luck finding you cunt.