You proved me wrong. Good job. I hope you're satisfied. And yet, at the same time, I know you're not. I want so badly to just sit around with all my girl friends, and call you an asshole, and tell them you were a bad kisser anyway, and I don't really care, and why should I, because I can get another guy in five minutes. But I can't. Because none of it would be true. Maybe the last part. Maybe. But not without me severly lowering my standards. The ones which you played such a big part in the raising of. Good job you. And, I want so much to be mad at you, to give you the cold shoulder, to say "I HATE YOU", and mean it, maybe even just a little bit. But I don't. And I can't.
And I want to stop listening to all your dumb music, or to at least really think it was dumb. But I don't. And I won't. Because I love it to death. And I'm still so glad that you got me listening to atmosphere, and sage, and gym class heroes, and even LTC, a.k.a. you. because it showed me a different side of myself. and i know that i'll always remember you for that. and of course for all the other things, that i wish i could forget. but that i'm sure i never will. and i probably won't want to eventually. but right now, i wouldn't mind.
See what I mean about the meaningless nikki babble? This is it right here. You've just experienced it. And I'm sure there's plenty more to come. Because that's what I do. And I do it often.
But for now, I'm done. Because I don't know what else to say.
And I'm tired.
And it's hard to type when my eyes are all full of tears like this.
It makes the screen all shaky.
And my head is starting to hurt.