August 16th, 2005


(no subject)

To You,
The funny thing is, I don't hate you. Or her. Clearly, we all realise that I should. The only emotion I'm feeling is extreme disappointment. In you. See, I never expected anything more from her. I know her too well to put any kind of faith in her. I refuse to let her of all people make me feel something as weak as disappointment. But you were different. At least I thought, and hoped you were. Yet, for the first time ever, I realise that hope it such an empty feeling. And I was wrong to have such a high amount of hope in you. Tell me, how long will we play these silly games? Each time, I tell myself it's over. But I'm always so weak. So, so weak. No matter what you say to me. Because the funny thing is, when you're trying to hurt or embarass me, you only end up embarassing yourself. And you think you know so much about me, but you don't know anything anymore. I'm not the girl you met four years ago. I'm not that person anymore. I've grown up, and you don't know how much I wish I could say the same for you.
The other day when you asked me if it made me feel better about myself to tell everyone all of your dirty little secrets, I avoided the question. But the truth is, it did. It felt so good being vindictive. But you wanna know what makes me feel even better about myself? That at the end of the day, I'm not you. I'll never be like you. I'll never treat people the way you do, and I'll never act the way you do.
Do you realise what your biggest problem is? I'd be glad to tell you. You think too highly of yourself. You're entirely too cocky. And to be perfectly honest, I really do not see why. You are such a terrible person. The worst part is, you can't even see it. How is it that everyone else around you sees that you're a cunt, but you've got your head shoved so far up your own ass, you don't notice. I'm surprised you can still breathe way up there.
After four years, I've finally figured you out. No matter how much you claim to care, the only person in this world you're concerned about is yourself. I wouldn't be surprised if you masturbated over a picture of your own face. You have the audacity to call me selfish, yet I'm the only one that's been a constant in your life for the last four years. You're a selfish bastard, and you're seriously going to burn for everything you've done to people.
You said one time that I was the only one that could cut you with my words, but I don't know how. You never listen to what I have to say. When we argue, you always put up this facade of not caring, and after everything is said and done, you tell me I hurt you. But you don't understand that I love that. You hurt me so many times, and I just love to make you scream inside. Does that make me a terrible person? Some may say yes. But those are the ones that don't understand our relationship. They're the ones who don't know how you tell me you love me one day, then take it back the next. They're the ones that've never heard the two of us cry on the phone together one day, and then ignore each other for weeks after.
Do you remember the phone call after your grandfather died? Do you remember how you told me he had passed away the night before, even though we had actually spoken after it happened, and you didn't tell me? I still don't understand why you didn't tell me then, but that's not the point of this stroll down memory lane. You were trying so hard to keep the emotion out of your voice, and I knew that you were really bothered about it. But you just couldn't let it be obvious. I understand better than anyone that feelings are annoying little bastards, but I don't understand why you wouldn't let me see that side of you. As if I haven't heard you cry before. We only talked for about five minutes, and the strangest part of the conversation was the very end. When you told me you had to go. That the only reason you called was to see if I was okay. I mean. What? Excuse me? No, you didn't. You called to tell me about your grandfather, so I could ask if you were okay. Even though you showed no emotion whatsoever. You drive me completely insane.
When we have a major argument, I tell you I hate you. But when we're okay, I return the 'I love you's you spit out. If I was forced to take a lie detector test to determine the dominant feelings, I really don't know which would be true. You get angry with me when I tell you I don't care about your selfish, petty problems, but I really don't. I got so sick of pretending. Because you'd get mad if I didn't give you enough sympathy. So after a while, I just stopped. I stopped caring. I stopped pretending. I stopped loving you.
I never realised how much I had to say to you. I'm so tired. My mind, my body, and my soul are bloody and beaten. I have no patience left. I just cannot do this anymore. I can't play these games again. I was never like this before I met you. I use to be happy. There's so much that you don't know about me, and that you'll never know. That doesn't even bother me. You tell me I'm bitter all the time, but I'm not. I honestly hope you have a good life. And I hope you make the most of whatever is handed to you. And most of all, I hope you recieve all of the love you ever deserved.

But again, hope is such an empty feeling.

(no subject)

Dear Boy,

These games have been played with me before, to me it's just childs play and i am so much more.

I know what you're trying to do.

I know that you think you're winning, but you're not little boy you're not.

You're going to have to grow


Bitterly, yours.