You're so full of shit.
No wait, you’re full of yourself. You think you can have any fucking girl you want; well, news flash…you can’t. I’m happy I rejected you and I’m mad that you asked me out for the third time while I was stoned. I’m glad we’re through. I hope I never have to speak to you again, to be honest. All you did was bitch about my friends. All you did was tell me you loved me. You can never hold a legitimate conversation. I don’t know why you do the shit you do, but I can’t take it anymore. Yeah, your father died, but really…you can’t use that excuse for everything. I wish you were insightful and musically inclined. I wish you understood that girls can’t be fucked around with like you want. All girls are are emotions. There’s nothing more to say. We mean what we say and say what we mean. I told you I cared for you, and I meant that. I still do. I fucking saved your ass from suicide and you think I don’t care? I don’t care, when you’re the one telling all your friends, “Oh, man I was so stoned. I don’t even care that we’re dating.” The only things you’re good at are lying, cheating, stealing, sweet-talking, manipulating, and persuading. I forgot to mention being stupid. You’re going to be a freshman for the third year in a row, how does that make you feel? How do you feel thinking about all of your friends actually becoming something in their life time and you sitting there doing K2 your whole life? How does it feel to know that when I am older, I will be successful, I will have someone to love, and I will not remember you? I’ll remember your name, of course, but not the things you said, because to me all the things you said were insignificant. I really do care for you and I hope you get your act together, but I know it won’t happen. You can’t take back all the mean shit you’ve said. You can’t take back that felony that will be beside you your whole life. You will more than likely be the cause of a homicide that could have been prevented, simply because you stole your step-dad’s guns. I really will be the only girl that ever understood your simplicity. I’m the only one that will see right through you. I’d warn the others, but why cut them slack when I got the most shit? You cuss out your teachers because they tell you your hair is slightly out of place. You beat up kids for no reason whatsoever. You’ll probably be going to juvenile soon, and no matter how many times I promised to write, I won’t. I won’t because I don’t want you to think you ever, ever have a chance with me again. I don’t need to be caught up with your delinquency. If I continued to be with you, I would surely have gray hair by the time I’m 20. Anyway, I’m writing this not in hopes that you’ll see it, but in hopes of making myself forget you easier. It’s been nice knowing you.P.S: I do love you, but not enough to put up with all of your bullshit.
Love always,
Nikki.
