Fuckyou

You Are A No Good, Lying Piece Of Shit. Everyone Will Eventually See Through Your BS. I Can't Wait. You Sociopathic Prick.

FUCK YOU. I hate you, you're a lazy selfish bitch, you're fat and have no fashion sense, you're miserable and passive-aggressive and catty and childish and you're fucking me around. I was happy to just continue pretending you don't exist, but now you're jerking me around on paying back money you said you'd pay, money you owe me, so FUCK YOU. Fuck you, fail harder, fuck off home to mommy and don't come fucking back.

You selfish fucking prick. Do you remember, years ago, looking at me and saying "I'll never say die when it comes to you?" You jerk. You said it. You screamed it into my face, the phone, you blasted out my soul with the hate in your voice. And I've spent month doing penance, scraping and bowing, afraid to even dishonor the thought of you, of what we had. You know what? I'm done. I'm smashing the altar in my mind, stomping out the incense, burning the pictures. I. Will. Not. Be. Miserable. Without. Your. Love. I can't throw you out of my heart, I cannot do anything about the hollow ache that accompanies the dull thud thud thud thud. I will cherish that, in memory of what we had. "Had" being the key word, motherfucker. You loved me, a little. You made me happy, kind of. But you're not the only one. And there was so much lacking. On both of our parts, to be sure. I still accept as much responsibility as I can bear. But I never said die, and I never would have. I want to make this perfectly clear. I don't say die when I love someone. And I don't withdrawal my love to save my own twisted sniveling rat-chewed soul. I accept the pain, because the only way to avoid it would have been to hurt you. Fuck that. But, and I can't emphasize this enough, fuck you too. Fuck you for calling me at three A.M. bitching about how I couldn't have loved you all that much if I'm doing anything besides screaming your name at the stars, scratching your initials into my arm with a rusty razorblade. You fuck. How dare you question my love, again, now, when it doesn't even fucking matter. Fuck you. Die in a fire.

Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!

Let me get this straight, you're mad at me because I disagreed with you about this whole thing. I'll admit I shouldn't have called you a bitch, and I shouldn't have said fuck you, but come on. You're still mad about that? You have called me a bitch countless times. You have said some pretty harsh shit to me, but I don't hold it against you. I always forgive you.

If you want me to "stay the fuck out of your business" then maybe you shouldn't complain to me about everything single little thing that goes wrong in your life. Did you ever think that maybe I don't want to hear it? Did you ever think that maybe the world doesn't revolve around you?

Like I said last night, I don't even care anymore. If you want to be mad about some dumb shit, then that's on you. If you want to throw away our friendship because you refuse to admit that maybe, just maybe someone else might be right, that's your problem. I'm not going to apologize for my opinion. Plus, in four months none of this will even matter.