I had my first date yesterday (since a whole damn year) and suffice to say I would assume it the last date too. I was too nervous, conversation was short, I couldn’t find a common ground to relate to her. Oh lord, it was the worse date ever, worse then that time I had to hide in the closet and sneak out of a certain girls house whose parents came home early. The many silent awkward moments where both of us knew that that date was futile and both of us wanted to be as far away from each other as possible, the many moments of daydreaming and getting caught by each other, the many moments in which we both found ourselves more interested in our neighbors conversation then our own; god, what a horrible night last night was.
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I would like to blame you, yes you. After a whole damn year why did you contact me again? If you didn’t know why don’t I inform you of what you did to me or at the very least remind you.
You fawking reached that tiny little hand of yours into my chest and rip out this flesh I refer to as a heart. Stomped the damn thing on the floor, twice, then spat on it. Laughed at it while I laid there in pain and took your behind out of my life forever, not saying a word to me.
Although I’ve always told myself it was my fault and my burden to bear, there is this little voice in my head that wants to yell.
It’s because of YOU! That they all left ME! It’s because of you that I lost them all. It’s because of you that till this day I cannot open myself to another girl! It’s because of you that I sleep in misery with a heart ache! It’s because of you that I fear this thing called “love” subconciously! You! You! You!
You know when I first met your friends they told me they were only going to stay for fifteen minutes with me and my friends. But in the end they stayed for more then four hours. You know why? Because at that time I had this thing called “game” which you fawking destroyed when you ripped my fawking testicle off by rejecting me!
So you come and tell me your problems, that you’re “physically” weak and that theres a lot of family drama.
Bullshitting bitch, I talked to your sister the other day. She laughed her fawking ass off when I told her to take better care of you for me cause you told me you’ve been sick. She said she didn’t even want to take care of a “bitch” like you anymore and that you’ve been out drinking a lot lately these days trying to be some kinda faggot ass party chick.
It’s no wonder that all THREE of your sister told me you were a bitch. Oh mand whats up with your myspace, claiming yourself as a heart breaker. B!tch why the fawk are you taking pride in that dumbass. Damn for someone who tells me she don’t want a boyfriend you sure do have a sh!t load of guys hacking and posting pic of them on your damn myspace.
Do you not see the conflict that you cause me? Do you not know that just communicating with you again breaks down the very barrier that I’ve worked so hard over the years to create come CRUMBLING down.
Don’t you remember what you said to me that day. That your gay mom say me and said I wasn’t good enough for you. Those hurtful things you told me when you decided never to talk to me again. Lying to me that you didn’t have time but turning around and hanging out with other guys a second after.
Your sister was right, I’m as good as I can be and that’s perfect already. It took me a whole lot of time and fawking suffering to figure that out. So you think I’m not good enough for you, big deal, FAWK YOU!
I still remember when your dumbass was crazy about me. Talking about me to everyone. My platonic girlfriends telling me that you popped out of nowhere and started talking to them about me. I still have your damn words, hand written, when you use to have feelings for me. Even then, I admit I was cruel … but I never was as cruel to you as you are to me.
You know what? You’re the one who’s not good enough for me! You short ass skinny ass skank. Dumbass wannabe girl alcoholic. Pretentious bad girl.
No I’m not going to reply to your damn e-mail anymore. Buzz off! You’ve no idea the amount of damage to my psyche you’ve done, it is beyond repair already so stop fawking tryna screw with my damn head!
*Sigh*
GOD! I WOULD LOVE TO TELL HER THAT, OH WHAT SWEET CLOSURE THAT WOULD BE! Ah, oh well, I’ll just kindly reply to her faggot ass e-mail as usual and hope she won’t mail back. Each mail I receive back is like a box of hurt waiting to ambush me.
We should petition for a bill; “Ex-Lover no communication law” punishable by a fine up to $10,000 for emotional stress inflicted upon the victim.
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