You are a fake. I hope you know that.
Even if no one else on the face of the earth sees through your whole "virgin queen" phase- even if everyone else thinks you're all deep and philosopihcal and emo and toooortured soulish- even if the world loves you more than it loves me, even if you're prettier and more popular than me...
I know it's a fake. And your attempt to get on my good side? Puh-lease. Don't make me laugh. Just saying, "I'm a better person" is not going to make me suddenly see through the drama-teen cliche and suddenly make me into one of your evil minions. And you're not very good at making me like you- you didn't even apologize for your attempt at making the past five years of my life hell. You didn't even apologize fro ruining me. You didn't even apologize for scarring me for life, for taking away my ability to see the good in people. You didn't even try.
There's some irony in the fact that my hating you right now is your own doing.
And guess what, gal-pal? I'll never be part of your fan club.
I'm practicing telling you to your face but it's much more amusing to watch you butter up to me and try to keep me from telling all your new friends about your hoochie-baby history. But some day I'll find the right time to tell you all this. Hopefully, then you'll know how I felt when you ruined me.