*The next post contains a lot of swearing and hateful thoughts. Sometimes I write hateful stuff. Sometimes I feel so much that it’s hard to put it all into words. Sometimes the only words I can use are swears. I actually don’t care. If you care, I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you.*
I believe we cannot hate without a reason. I believe everybody should just be neutral about each other unless they have a good reason to change their opinion. I say this only to justify what I’m going to say next.
Yes, FUCK YOU. Fuck you for leaving me alone in my dark forest of desperation. In simpler terms, Fuck you for not talking to me with no reason behind it. Like, just after I told you how much I valued the fact that you took the time to talk to me, you do this to me. FUCK YOU. Seriously, I don’t even care if I sound whiny or depressive right now, or if you’re never going to read this. In fact, I couldn’t care less if you read this. FUCK YOU.
Because seriously, the only thing I can think of that I may have done to deserve this is how the other day I missed the trash can while trying to throw away a ball of paper. You didn’t even hear about that but maybe some karmic reaction found its way to you and caused you to unilaterally hate my guts. Even though you say you don’t, you seem to be pretty nice to everyone else. It’s just me that gets the crummy side of the deal. So, you know, fuck you for that.
I can’t look at your pictures right now. I can’t even think about you, because I’m like pretty angry at you right now. I don’t normally get angry when things happen. I mean, I’m pretty good at letting things go and not caring. What makes me mad is living in the limbo of possibilities that forms when you don’t tell me shit and won’t talk to me despite my constant attempts to talk to you or see you or make you feel better. When I tell you how pretty you are you seem to not give a good god damn about it so, I guess, no change from all my other relationships.
You, and those guys you are always talking about, can go fuck yourselves. That’s probably what you were going to do anyway, so what’s stopping you? I certainly am not.
I loved you. Oh my god, I really loved you and you screwed me sideways. I wanted you more than anything. I was and maybe still am completely head over heels for you for no apparent reason. I don’t care about anything, yet in my world of indifference I cared about you. I still care about you. The thing is I’ve been through a lot of rejection and I’ve become kind of immune to it, yet in every kind of immunity lies a break point. I may have reached the break point between being indifferent about rejection and being completely terrified by it. So now I’m paralyzed by my fear of talking to you even more than before I met you. I’m afraid of talking to you because you’ll probably tell me to stop. Honestly, fuck you for that.