I need to vent. Big time. There’s no way I’ll ever tell you this in person, but if you happen to read it and want to talk, then spit out your words. I’d love to know what’s going through that head of yours! So, here goes:
I hate you. Every single, minuscule thing that you do. You pretend to be something that you’re not. I see right through you. You say that you don’t want to lose my friendship. You say that you consider me one of the best friends you’ve ever had. What a load of CRAP!!!! If you considered me “one of the best friends you’ve ever had”, you wouldn’t ignore me!!! I hate to break it to you, but you can’t act like me telling you I had feelings for you never happened and that you never met me. It did happen. You did meet me. There’s one big problem I’m having trouble figuring out. Seeing the way you act towards people, especially towards me now, I wonder how the hell I ever liked you in the first place. Moreover, I wonder why I even told you that I liked you. Well, at least in telling you, I saw your true side, and saw why you have so many damn boy problems. Want to know why you have so many problems? Let me clue you in.
I’m going to let you in on a little secret – You are THE most SHALLOW person I have ever met. All those times you had a guy problem, who was there to help you out of the pathetic mess you had created in your life? Who was there to give you heartfelt, genuine advice? Who was there when you rejected that advice, took your own advice, and got continually shot down? I WAS!!! I was the one that kept condoling you, over and over. I was the one that told you that they were idiots, told you that they didn’t know what they were missing. Boy, do I realize now that I was wrong.
They were right to get away from you. I hope they left the ever-loving state just to get away from you. Your biggest problem is that you are so damn shallow that you just go for the first thing that catches your lust-filled eye. You don’t care about personality, heart, intelligence (since you have none of your own), or anything else that makes up a person. All you care about is how they will look draped over your damn arm, and how much you can show off to people. Well, I hope that you are very happy with the mess that you’ve created in yourself. If you want to come back, I am always open. But, I will not – I repeat, WILL NOT – continue to let you treat me the way you treat other men – as an object of your shameless flirtation.
