Well, that's odd, because I could have sworn you were actually an okay person.
See, I'm tired of being fucked with. I'm tired of believing she's such an okay person...I'm tired of thinking I want to spend so much time with her, although she already fucked me over more than once...and I'm tired of being slapped in the face again and again with this bitchy persona that's supposed to make me hate her.
Does that make sense? It's fucking annoying.
First of all: I'm over the shit that happened in May. I don't care anymore. Don't tell me it's my fault...then we're okay.
Second of all: You don't have to make it a point to throw your love for someone else in my face. That's my job. That's right. It's MY job to show you what you lost. My job to make you wish you had me...make you remember how fucking happy you were. I already know how happy I was. Sometimes, I can actually remember what it was that made me happy...then I remember it's you and the thought turns sour. You won already. You got me. You had me. You had all of me. You threw me out. You made me feel like shit. You diagnosed me and told me to get over it. You fucked with me. You pretended you cared. You flirted with me. You found someone else. You pushed my buttons and told me all about him...about your amazing love. You won. Until now.
I've never wanted you less. I've never felt this way about anybody before. I've never had tears of anger shoved behind my eyes, ready to burst at any second...since my mother. And I realize...you two are the same. Exactly. Except...the thing you two have in common, you did intentionally.
Don't fuck with me. Leave me alone. I don't want any of this. I want to find someone who cares about me. I want to find a friend that doesn't constantly feel uncomfortable around me...who doesn't make me regret every moment spent with her.
Not one ounce of attention I have is for you...and you haven't showed me an ounce of yours in months. I know how to treat friends...I know how much I hurt. Obviously, you don't.
Oh...also...
You know that I sat down with Paige the night before the explosion in her basement, crying, trying to figure out what to do about you...and me. And in that conversation, we came up with the idea that I had to cease talking to you. I had to stop e-mailing you, calling you, iming you and everything else. Of course, I wasn't going to tell you this, I was just going to do this.
WE FUCKING PLANNED ON IT. I HAD ALREADY DECIDED TO BE DONE WITH YOU.
I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ARE TELLING PEOPLE THAT IT WAS YOUR DECISION.
This time, it's not "Poor Terri". Get over it. You fucked me over. I did nothing to you but try to deal with that and keep you as a friend because I thought it was worthwhile.
I'm done. And you are gone. You can have your Noah and your James and your Kim and your Trip and your Angie and Jules and your Cookie Place and your Savannah and your Alex, Traci and Ariel and your fucking freak outs.
Oh...don't worry. Eventually, I'll remember you exist.
Peoples is bitches.
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