I guess the thing that surprises me the most is your classification of us as exes. Really? When did we date? Was I so devastated every time you told me how embarrassed you are of me or how worthless I am that I simply forgot about all the dinners we had and movies we went to? Was I so flummoxed by your seeming inability to express any variation of “please”, “thank you”, or “I’m sorry”, that I just spaced out all the times you wished me happy birthday, or merry Christmas? Maybe every time you responded to an invitation for intimacy with emotional abuse my memory blocked out a really heartfelt conversation we had or some amazing lovemaking right after? It must be. Like that would make some sense then why you’re always so disappointed with how I fail all your expectations.

I may be a lazy alcoholic manic depressive mess pissing my life down the toilet faster than anyone could imagine. But at least I’m honest with myself. And you for that matter tho I don’t really owe you anything. I tried really hard for a really long time to make something real happen, but apparently you’d rather believe something actually did and I fucked it all up by myself. By either or our interpretations, is it any wonder I don’t care about anything at all now when what I cared about most went so poorly for me? There’s a bunch more I could say, but let’s be real, you don’t care, about me, about my feelings or what I have to say.

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