I’m so tired of having to deal with you. History has shown that you will be dropping the ball very soon and creating a nuclear drama bomb around you, injuring the innocent with flying empty pill bottles, battered cell phones and hurled mother parts. I really don’t want to have to wait around for that, inevitable though it is. I would prefer to watch it from afar, say, with a nice chianti and a pair of binoculars…maybe a cheese platter. I would also bring some of the innocents with me to partake in the viewing party just so I could watch their awe as I give them a play by play of your every move. They would think me a fortune teller…and I would not tell them that the reason I know your every move is because I’ve watched this same explosion many, many times. 10, 9, 8, 7…
You’re like one of those siren songs when you open your mouth I’m lured into telling you all my secrets. And you I see your demon side and I wonder if you are spilling the beans…MY beans. Just don’t forget that you’ve opened your mouth, too. And if things come out, everyone on campus will hear it.
I notice you glare at me every time I see you. Maybe he said something
about me? made up a story? The truth is he tried to get with me when
you guys were together. We did everything except for sex. He tried to
but his dick was too soft by then because I’m so much better that he
came in his pants… twice. He proceeded to hump my leg to try and get
it up. That was f****** weird so i bounced. You can have him, I’m just
sorry he’s your world and you’re not good enough for him.
Every time I see you, I’m reminded of the several times that I’ve
opened up to you about my feelings for you. Each time you turned into
a brickwall. That made me feel like shit. I hope you’re happy.
Oops-you have depression, so you’re not. I hope that at some point
before we graduate you become aware of and ACKNOWLEDGE how you made,
no, make me feel.
I would say “Fuck you”, but that’s not the appropriate phrase. . . nor
is “I forgive you”.
Here’s to happiness.
You think you know me but you dont. When you say you think I’m weird
you may mean it but that dont make it true. While I may be depressed
that doesnt mean I’m stupid or a freak. So I’m unhappy with my life, my
friends, my family. It’s not your buisness, you can say what you will. You
dont know me not even at all.
You bullshit me daily about “depression” and feeling sad and lonely and all I see is a human being who is functioning fine without me. Damn, I’m sorry I had any wine today. It makes me yearn…but if you were here right now I can’t say that I’d rushing into your arms and burying my lips upon yours. More than likely I would look at you in irritation and bitterness. Wanting to scream at you, “How could you give up our family, you stupid fuck!” Because you really are a stupid fuck…or, maybe I am. I believed every God Damned thing you said…and I must be a certifiable nutbat. I mean, your words were empty. Day after day you would make these promises and tell me these things about your feelings and your love and your wants and desires…and I guess, most of all, about your SATISFACTION. You were SATISFIED with me. But hello! I wasn’t satisfied. And you know what??? I’m easily satisfied. I’m SO easy. I never pushed or pulled…and all of my snooping ended after the last time. I guess that was traded for suspicion and contempt. Instead of looking for the infidelities I was satisifed being convinced of your indescretions. But, screw it. A dick is easy to find. A talented dick a little more difficult. And a talented tongue that can make you forget a dick…almost impossible. But I have my new boyfriend that takes AA batteries and it’s just going to have to be good enough. Because you know what, it never fucks me over unless I want it to. I can’t tell you how attractive that is to me. I push the buttons (or lever) and I control my pleasure and my pain. You are gone. Your last fuck was fucked…so fuck you…never again.