I am so angry with you. I know you don’t care, which makes me even angrier. I know you only want sex and don’t care about me as a person, which hurts. You don’t care about that, either.
I wish you saw beyond my body, saw everything I have to offer. But you don’t. All you see is an ass and a pair of tits and it’s my job to accept that. But I’m really done this time. I’m done talking to you and I’m done sleeping with you and maybe one day I can be done thinking about you, too. You’re great at sex but I’ve realized that I don’t like YOU as a person, at all! HA! Oh wait, you don’t care.
I’m waiting like an idiot for you to realize that there’s more to me than my body, but I’ve realized I’ll be waiting forever, for nothing. You never will. Not only are you not over your ex (who forgot about your birthday, I heard…guess who remembered? but you don’t care), but you’ve also apparently judged me to only be good for a late-night fuck. That’s your loss.
I don’t have to worry about you missing my blowjobs or my body too much. I don’t know how many people you’re sleeping with but I do know they’ll be dirty sluts just like me, you herpes-ridden whore. That’s right, I haven’t forgotten that you gave me herpes and I hope you haven’t either. I hope you never do.
I hope you’re happy with the life you’ve chosen for yourself. I hope your ex decides to come back to you and you two can live happily ever after. Good luck telling her about the herpes; I’m assuming you have more respect for her than you do for me and would actually tell her instead of letting her find out from your medication bottle.
Goodbye, J, for the final time. In the words of FallOutBoy, “thanks for the memories, even though they weren’t so great”. Maybe someday you’ll be able to pull your head out of your ass enough to be able to see what an awful person you are.
I wish that I had never met you but I don’t wish you unhappiness, I really don’t, no matter how much I hate you. I don’t want you to suffer because the fact that you treat people like this means you’re already suffering. The one time you opened up and told me you were depressed a couple of months ago, I gave you some numbers for different therapy clinics. I hope you call.
Mostly, I hope you never treat anyone like this ever again. In the future, if you start fucking some younger woman again and she catches feelings for you like I did and you don’t share them, please let her go and spare her this pain, no matter how good the sex is.
I was using hard drugs when I met you and the pain I felt because of you pushed me to my breaking point. Either I was going to overdose on purpose or get clean and begin a life of recovery. I chose recovery. They say everything happens for a reason; you probably had a big part in changing my life for the better. But I have to let you go. I have to let my heart and soul recover from you now.
To you, I know I’m just a pair of tits and an ass who is angry at you all the time. But if there’s one thing you remember about me, please remember that I’m a person. A person who cared. A lot.