Save It

The fact that you came into my store today wasn't what bothered me. It wasn't even that I had to lay eyes on your sorry face. It was the fact that after the war you waged between myself and the others was started BY YOU. Was won BY YOU. I was left standing in the dust with nothing to show for. You wanted me to see how unwanted I was in all of their lives and you did JUST that. Just that. I had never felt more unwanted in my life. Not prior and not hence.

The thing that bothered me about today was that after all the shit you pulled, all the harsh things you said to me... You had to nerve to smile at me. And what's more, you had the sheer audacity to WAVE at me. Like we're pals, like you didn't single handedly make sure I was so beaten down and broken that I wouldn't have the strength to retort. I didn't even want to smile at you. LET ALONE wave. You're so fake. You can keep your god damn house hold harmony and shove that shit right back up your ass where it belongs.

""Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds."
Small minded? Absolutely.

For Luck

When I was a little girl I would draw you butterflies for good luck.

I wish someone would draw me butterflies.

Sweet, Sweet Justice.

I find contentment in knowing that, at the end of the day, I have bigger balls then you EVER will.

Burn?

I hold onto people too hard... to close. And for way, way too long. This is, without a doubt, my ultimate flaw.

Ironic

You know, all this time, all this time that has passed, that has disappeared before my very eyes... All this time I've been sitting here. Feeling sorry for myself. Missing that point in my life. Missing how happy I was with everything. Missing your friendship... And come to find out, you can't even attend a common friends going away party because you don't want to chance seeing me??? You need to get over yourself. You're really not that important. Or that special. I have faith in knowing that I am nothing like you, after all, what kind of a person waits for a holiday to come around to end things. A spineless one, that's what kind. Hey, I've got an idea, send me a post card when you make it to hell. Lest you're there already.

Then send me two.

Bad Blood?

Your final entry in my life was a submission on a Deviant Art journal entry? House hold harmony ruined? Good to know. Good. To. Know.

Walk

No one ever came to my rescue. No one ever comes to my rescue. And no one ever will.

I'll Never Mean To You What You Mean To Me

I've never felt so forgotten. You never fail to make me feel like shit. To make my friendship to you feel so meaningless. I know you don't do it on purpose... but, you do.

Copy Cat

It's like you moved right in and fucking copied me. Legit. Befriend them all, one by one, and then watch them all FUCK YOU OVER. One. By. One. Cunt.

Forgotten

You know what sucks? Watching your life long friends move in and become good friends with the people from your past who left you behind. It sucks. I have to sit here and watch it. I have to sit here and remember how easily I was left behind and left out... All the while, I sit here and remember my past and remember those people with fondness and love and want nothing more than to be acknowledged by these people again.

For Fucking Serious?

So, I’m lying here in bed watching the movie “Bridesmaids” which is fucking hilarious by the way; I was dying four minutes into the flick. Well I let the credits play through ‘cause it was an interesting ending song so I decide to do my normal “brain-dead” internet thing. Go on Facebook. As I sit here, reading through all my friends’ stories, which I can see if any of my friends comment on, (annoying by the way!) and I’m gradually getting more and more ticked off. Shit pisses me off, man. I see a stupid comment and I want to say something, like “shut the fuck up, your hair is DYED blond, bitch”. But I don’t, because I don’t want to start “drama”. But man, fuck that shit. It’s not drama if it’s true. People piss me off to no avail. Women. Psshh. Are you fucking serious bitch? You all fucking sell yourselves out for a god damn compliment. And MEN. God. PATHETIC. You make fucking sport out of getting women to sell themselves out like that. You’re all fucking stupid. There’s no one left on this stupid fucking planet that’s real.

Seriously. I’m sick of making new friends. They fuck me over. Every time. I’m sick of trying. I’m sick of meeting these cool people and being like “yeah they’re cool, maybe I’ll open up to them” only to be tossed the fuck aside for a fucking guy. What the fuck? Who the fuck DOES that?! Fuck man. Fuck that shit.
I used to have such a passion for people. I gave everyone a second chance. I was that person who was there. And then… It took me one minute to fall in love with the 6 people I shared my living space with who took 8 months to falsely lure me into a lull of confidence in their returned love which was snatched away from me in the course of a five minute conversation of how I’d cleaned out the fridge and it’s taken me 2 years to be able to write about it because it still burns deep down. You’re all cunts and I hope I get the chance to tell it to your faces one day.

Prose

In a world full of disappointment. There you are. My one hope. My one pro in an otherwise completely con-list-life.

True Art

So you know how people say you should be “gracious” and, oh what’s that word… means you should let things go and move on… That’s what people say to you after someone rips your heart out, stomps on it, calls strangers over to laugh at it’s pathetic remnants on the ground and yet all your friends can muster up to tell you is “at least it wasn’t your head, be gracious.” … Are you fucking kidding me? You want to know what I’m doing right now? Right this second? I’m mentally filing this memory under your file with a memo to myself that says this: “Note to self, next time so and so is heartbroken, be sure to lay on extra vinegar and extra salt to the wounds.” Fucker. What kind of “friend” says that? You know what a TRUE friend would say? Something along the lines of “hey, how about we skip work and go dump two pounds of bologna all over his car ‘cause that shit causes rust in the sun.” Now THAT’S what I call a good friend. Been there, done that, would do that again.

I don’t have friends like that. I have all goody-two-shoes friends. I don’t know why. They don’t really fit with me. And they only get disappointed in me. They act all surprised when I say things like “God I wish that kid would choke on his fucking lollypop so he’d shut the fuck up.” Or “I’d choose a cat over a human anytime, humans suck and the world could do with less of them.” I mean really? Those aren’t that bad, I’ve said way worse while watching porn.

Just a Little More

Here’s the thing about always thinking; the thing about always having an open mind, an open opinion. All the while as you’re sitting there thinking to yourself, “oh I hope I make it home first so I don’t hold her up because I know how she gets annoyed”, she’s already forgotten and made other plans. All the while, of every day, you sit there and think, and you think some more. You go that stupid fucking extra mile every time because now it’s just second nature to you when no one notices. No one even takes a second glance. It’s when you say, real cheery too, “Good morning ma’am! How are you doing this fine day?” and all the bitch can reply is “I have bags.” You sit back and you sigh while a little more of your faith in humanity is pissed away. All over recyclable bags.

The kicker? This thing, this “always being aware and considerate of others” never goes away. You still try. You still smile. But no one ever bothers to notice just how empty and hollow it has become.

The "Princess" and the Frog

Why is it that women are so quick to sell themselves for a cheaply delivered and so obviously hollow compliment? Why do women think they can change these worthless men into something of a worth? They sit on their fat asses all day and complain, complain, complain. “I’m better than this”; “I’m worth more than this”. It’s always the women who get rejected by one guy. One measly Neanderthal who can’t tell the difference between his knuckles and the ground in which he is dragging them on. And somehow, this ruins them, impairs their judgment and there in lays the problem. For this is when the cunning bottom feeders swoop in, there to pick you up at your lowest, to say those three deadly words that you’ve been longing for: “I appreciate you”. For three measly words they throw all of their dignity and self respect out the window. Defenestration at its best!

Let me tell you something. You fuckin’ think you’re something special? You think he’s suddenly and miraculously going to change? For you? You think he’s magically going to see the error of his ways and give it all up? For you? Who do you think you are? What are you to him? A halfway decent fuck who can’t even remember who he was screwing last season, let alone you twenty some-odd years from now. Please. Don’t delude yourself.

These same women are always the ones who end up leaving their men time and time again because they’re not “perfect” enough, because they “deserve better”, they want their Prince Charming to come in and sweep them off their feet with his trusty white steed, so they can finally be treated like the “princess” they are. They talk the talk by demanding the prince but they aren’t walking the walk when they settle for the frog.
Every. Single. Time.

It’s sad because, and only because, the real princes they are longing for, are there all the while; bearing discarded witness to this pathetic and public show of psycho-babble failure. There stands your prince, in the shambles and dust, he and his trusty steed.