(Here's your testicles- take it from me, they were second-rate anyway.)
Just one lesson for you-
You don't exist.
Stars you can't see and plastic cups, glass bottles in the grass
Everything, anything else is more than you.
You're no one's life, just a temporary hallucination, something like a song
I just made you up to hurt myself
..But not even close.
There's no one who wonders where you are,
At any given time
And when you look in her eyes, you see it
You hear her screaming those words,
You'll never be good enough
You'll never be happy
You'll never be
You'll never
You'll forget to breathe.
I know all the motions you go through, the facade and the superficial smile
Lying to yourself becomes easier every day.
You taught me this-
And I documented it all, and you read it, and you bought it, but I never
And she won't either.
Sure she's
Stretched and worn and unoriginal, talentless, aimless
Grammatical debauchery and herpes
But you're nothing special.
You're nothing.
She's addicted to your body heat and soon it'll all be gone.
Tell me
What's it feel like to be a ghost?
Give my gun away, it's loaded.
Shoot it.
Shoot it.
Remember when, remember that time, I held something sharp and dangerous right next to your temple. Over the phone, me in the car and you in fucking Michigan, I told you I blamed you. But it was all my fault, even giving you the time of day. Worrying about you, that's where I went wrong. I was never scared of doing it all by myself, and I planned on it. I planned on shutting you out of both of our lives. A few hours of Valerie telling me how much you would be hurt and I gave in. Fuck you. Fuck you. You're such a disappointment. Even more than I've been, and I admit that's rank. That's bloody fucking topping it all, Caleb. You and your sissy ass calls at 3 AM and you'd be so mad when I didn't answer, which was most of the time, but when I answered I'd have to endure some kind of whining about seeing shit or a nightmare. I thought I was getting someone strong, someone with some self-respect- forget the lies and the guilt trips and the way you'd do your best to bring me down- you were the catalyst for a brand-new demon in my head (remember how I always asked you to use protection? Remember how you didn't?) so I expected for you to be a bit more powerful. Not some worthless high-school-reject pothead, complete with DUI charges in a truck that's not even yours, "hopelessly in love" with some 26-looking-like-35 year old waitress with four kids and a venereal disease, and quite obviously no education, blaming all your problems on the rest of the world and using the "I-know-you-are-but-what-am-I" tactic when people realize what a nonentity you are. I wish you would clean up, so I could at least stop feeling bad for sleeping with a nobody. Someone who had to make up a personality to be accepted, someone who slept with Mrs. Swamp Thing herself and keeps it a secret because A.) Who would admit to that? and B.) Her husband would chop off your testicles. Someone who was a nobody at school, someone who prides himself on his mediocre writings. Someone who pretended to be a woman in order to compliment himself on his sexual skills in a public forum. Someone who has the most awkward nose I have possibly ever seen. Yeah, I know I seem really shallow for that, but it always got to me. What a ridiculous nose. Why couldn't you be some kind of murderer or something aggressive and virile like that? Why'd you have to be a pussy, be such a fucking let down? The funny thing is, I can actually believe, even through all those conversations where you'd come whining to me about how you couldn't stop thinking about me kissing Adam, and what bad days you would have, and how much you missed me, and you would constantly call- I can believe you didn't really love me. You're that weak, you have to hold yourself close to some semblance of strength. The things you did wrong by me don't get me so much. Just the fact that you can't seem to do right. Don't get me wrong, which you've repeatedly done in the past, I don't want you. All of the skeletons might have worked to the advantage of your image in my eyes, but you had to turn out to be weak. Honestly, what is there to want? A nose tailored by Jim Henson and a sexually transmitted infection? A broke-ass old guy who's clingy as hell? Come on, quit kidding yourself. I'm an 18 year old college girl with DD's, proportioned pretty well for the rest of the figure too; I've played with the rich boys (they seem to like those leashes, figurative and literal) and the cool kids and shut them all down just to test my limits- so far I have none, so what would I want with your trashed reality? I never got to rip anything from your womb, though, so I'm going to let you know exactly what's going on- you never could get your facts straight. It's the least I can do considering my joyous Christmas season is just that much more wonderful this year.
In conclusion, I thought I might mention- all that time you said you'd take care of me for life, with all the money you had? And you were/are actually a good bit into debt? It's pretty interesting, since that little fallout between us, I realized I wanted to go into intelligence. Now I might do that or I might work for homeland security, but in another three and a half years I'll be somewhere in Europe (Italy, probably) working for $100,000 a year. So, I get my dreams, millonnaire status after some years, and I almost wonder how you'll compare.
Just one lesson for you-
You don't exist.
Stars you can't see and plastic cups, glass bottles in the grass
Everything, anything else is more than you.
You're no one's life, just a temporary hallucination, something like a song
I just made you up to hurt myself
..But not even close.
There's no one who wonders where you are,
At any given time
And when you look in her eyes, you see it
You hear her screaming those words,
You'll never be good enough
You'll never be happy
You'll never be
You'll never
You'll forget to breathe.
I know all the motions you go through, the facade and the superficial smile
Lying to yourself becomes easier every day.
You taught me this-
And I documented it all, and you read it, and you bought it, but I never
And she won't either.
Sure she's
Stretched and worn and unoriginal, talentless, aimless
Grammatical debauchery and herpes
But you're nothing special.
You're nothing.
She's addicted to your body heat and soon it'll all be gone.
Tell me
What's it feel like to be a ghost?
Give my gun away, it's loaded.
Shoot it.
Shoot it.
Remember when, remember that time, I held something sharp and dangerous right next to your temple. Over the phone, me in the car and you in fucking Michigan, I told you I blamed you. But it was all my fault, even giving you the time of day. Worrying about you, that's where I went wrong. I was never scared of doing it all by myself, and I planned on it. I planned on shutting you out of both of our lives. A few hours of Valerie telling me how much you would be hurt and I gave in. Fuck you. Fuck you. You're such a disappointment. Even more than I've been, and I admit that's rank. That's bloody fucking topping it all, Caleb. You and your sissy ass calls at 3 AM and you'd be so mad when I didn't answer, which was most of the time, but when I answered I'd have to endure some kind of whining about seeing shit or a nightmare. I thought I was getting someone strong, someone with some self-respect- forget the lies and the guilt trips and the way you'd do your best to bring me down- you were the catalyst for a brand-new demon in my head (remember how I always asked you to use protection? Remember how you didn't?) so I expected for you to be a bit more powerful. Not some worthless high-school-reject pothead, complete with DUI charges in a truck that's not even yours, "hopelessly in love" with some 26-looking-like-35 year old waitress with four kids and a venereal disease, and quite obviously no education, blaming all your problems on the rest of the world and using the "I-know-you-are-but-what-am-I" tactic when people realize what a nonentity you are. I wish you would clean up, so I could at least stop feeling bad for sleeping with a nobody. Someone who had to make up a personality to be accepted, someone who slept with Mrs. Swamp Thing herself and keeps it a secret because A.) Who would admit to that? and B.) Her husband would chop off your testicles. Someone who was a nobody at school, someone who prides himself on his mediocre writings. Someone who pretended to be a woman in order to compliment himself on his sexual skills in a public forum. Someone who has the most awkward nose I have possibly ever seen. Yeah, I know I seem really shallow for that, but it always got to me. What a ridiculous nose. Why couldn't you be some kind of murderer or something aggressive and virile like that? Why'd you have to be a pussy, be such a fucking let down? The funny thing is, I can actually believe, even through all those conversations where you'd come whining to me about how you couldn't stop thinking about me kissing Adam, and what bad days you would have, and how much you missed me, and you would constantly call- I can believe you didn't really love me. You're that weak, you have to hold yourself close to some semblance of strength. The things you did wrong by me don't get me so much. Just the fact that you can't seem to do right. Don't get me wrong, which you've repeatedly done in the past, I don't want you. All of the skeletons might have worked to the advantage of your image in my eyes, but you had to turn out to be weak. Honestly, what is there to want? A nose tailored by Jim Henson and a sexually transmitted infection? A broke-ass old guy who's clingy as hell? Come on, quit kidding yourself. I'm an 18 year old college girl with DD's, proportioned pretty well for the rest of the figure too; I've played with the rich boys (they seem to like those leashes, figurative and literal) and the cool kids and shut them all down just to test my limits- so far I have none, so what would I want with your trashed reality? I never got to rip anything from your womb, though, so I'm going to let you know exactly what's going on- you never could get your facts straight. It's the least I can do considering my joyous Christmas season is just that much more wonderful this year.
In conclusion, I thought I might mention- all that time you said you'd take care of me for life, with all the money you had? And you were/are actually a good bit into debt? It's pretty interesting, since that little fallout between us, I realized I wanted to go into intelligence. Now I might do that or I might work for homeland security, but in another three and a half years I'll be somewhere in Europe (Italy, probably) working for $100,000 a year. So, I get my dreams, millonnaire status after some years, and I almost wonder how you'll compare.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
Congrats on your A. I did alright on all my junk except for the one class that should've been the easiest. I focused too much on Physics I guess. Oh well.
Happy Holidays!