Thursday, September 13, 2012

What To Send To The Douchebag In Your Life.

“Don’t text me.” Send.


I liked you. A lot even. When we met it was a “firework, roses, rainbows, and ponies galloping into a beautiful green meadow as the sun was setting” shit. I thought to myself, finally. This is why I have put up with all the assholes of the past because you have to go through bad stuff to get to the good, right? It’s what I told myself anyway.

And you. You were great. You had me going. Round of applause? I liked you so much that I liked you even when you didn’t deem me worthy of a text back. But at 2am, boy you were on it with your “Hey baby, how’s your day? Come over?” And of course, right on cue, I went over. And over and over and over and over.

But, you know what I’m done. I don’t know, today, I’m just done. It’s like I woke up today and didn’t wanna do this anymore. I’m done being your little punching bag when it’s convenient for you. And you’re going to wake up and realize you had a girl who would’ve made you a sandwich not because you “commanded” but because she actually wanted to. She wanted to help take care of you, because it’s so clear you can’t take care of yourself. You little 5 year old. Yeah I’m pissed. Go find another girl who’s going to put up with your shit.

Oh, whoa now I’m important? Now when you realize you’re going to have to boil your own spaghetti late night dinner and cook your own eggs at 9am, now I’m important? Go screw yourself. Screw your stupid eggs. I hope you’re allergic to eggs! I hope you find a switchblade knife in your freakin’ eggs. You suck and I’m awesome. Yeah you’re hot, but being hot isn’t an excuse to act like a dumbass. I’m a damn good catch and I’m done wasting my time on you. It is over. Don’t text me. I’m over it. I’m over you.


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