(no subject)
Dear John,
Did it ever occur to you that I just wasn't as attracted to you physically as you thought I should have been. That you aren't as incredibly gorgeous as you think you are? Maybe if you took the time to bathe more than once a month, or not put glue in your hair. Even bothering to wash your clothes might have helped in turning me on to you. But you are dirty, and not very good looking. Yes, I thought you were attractive at one point. I liked your eyes, and I liked the colour of your hair - but your teeth are grimey. Your nose is hideously shaped, yes I know mine is large - no need to point it out. You have a mole on your chin, with tiny hairs that grow out of it. I always hated it. You look horrible without makeup, maybe you should go back to being goth. Whatever style you've been attempting, hasn't worked out for you so well. Not many people like that you wear the same outfit for a week straight, believe me - I've heard them talk about it. I never had sex with you because I didn't even trust your body to be clean. Who knows what kind of street trash you've had sex with. You seem to fuck anything that will let you, you may have even tried your dog at some point. Do you really think I wanted to open myself up to being infected with whatever diseases you more than likely have? For some reason, sources say no. I never really trusted you because of your personality. You never opened up to me at all, so I never really got to know you. Why would I have sex with someone I don't know? Another thing, do you really believe you could have pleased me with what you have? Something you aren't even proud enough of to show to anyone over the internet without Photoshopping first? Even your good friend from middle school? Speaking of underdeveloped body parts - why does it matter so much that my "tits" aren't huge? I'd rather not have back problems. I'd rather have guys looking at my eyes rather than my chest. Why is that such a problem? Why is it that you always want whores? But are too cheap to pay for a real one? You can't seem to get your own decent girlfriend because no one wants to be with a prick who won't even open doors for them. You're going no where in life, John. Even if you do get a decent job somehow, you'll never have a decent life. You'll never be able to find completion, because you'll always be bored with something - you'll always find something to hate.
As for the way I used to be - Yes, I said random things a lot [ like "mew" ]. I guess I wasn't as good at making up stories as you were. I wasn't so creative as to make up a pretend boyfriend who commited suicide just days after I told him I loved him. I wasn't so creative as to pretend I was the best fighter around, when in reality - I curled up into a little ball and let people kick the crap out of me. I tried to stand up for my friends, but when yours were in trouble..all you did was call the police to have them handle the situation. You never did anything to anyone while I was around. Once, we were walking home and some kids were infront of us - you wanted them to get angry, and you kept saying that ripping out their arms would bring you great Joy. Everything was "Joy". For a good couple of minutes. Try expanding your vocabulary, without having to consult a dictionary first. Another time, all you did was have me stand by your backpack while you used your height to try to intimidate someone. You pushed them a little, rather than just hitting them. What was that? Whenever I hear about you getting into fights, it's always you ending up on the ground being a pathetic kid curled into a ball. It really confused me how you could hurt yourself, but couldn't take someone else hurting you.
That's another thing to chalk up. The cuts on your arms and legs were never attractive, and never will be. It wasn't cool to send people on guilt trips saying that they were the cause of your meeting with a kitchen knife. "My girlfriend didn't tell me that she loved me. I will now slit my wrists and bleed all over the keyboard as I type to her from behind my safe computer screen." Lame. You always argued with me over the internet. Why didn't you ever tell me "Hey, you suck." to my face? Why did it take you six months to break up with me if you hated me so much? And why weren't you even decent enough of a human being to do it in person? And why did you write that sappy letter a couple days later about you crying and listening to Voltaire all night?
You said "To be honest, if she was hornier and has something more uptop, i woulda stayed with her a bit longer.” But what makes you think that I would have stayed with you? I was the one who gave up on you for the last time. I found someone who was better than you in every way. Why would I even have bothered with you, after I met him? I was with you for so long because I had no one else. You made me lose all of my friends, remember? You made me turn my back on my religion, remember? You made me hate my parents, remember? You made me hate my life, remember? Do you remember, John? I wasn’t the only one who ever pissed you off. I wasn’t the only one who ever did anything wrong. Yes, you opened my eyes to a few new things. Yes, you made me think twice about a few things I said or did. But no, you couldn’t change who I truly was. And that is exactly what you wanted to do. You didn’t succeed, and I think that makes you angry. Why else would you still be talking about me?
To Stacie: Why the hell do you hate me so much? I hardly ever did anything to you. All I did was date your exboyfriend. How does your new boyfriend feel about you obsessing over this issue so much? And for so long. You’d think after a year, you’d let it go.
As for the entire thing about you thinking you’re prettier than me: You’re short and fat. You have hideously large boobs, that I’ve been told sag. A lot. Mine are perky, with or without a bra. I’d rather be tall and thin than be overtaken by curves in all the wrong places. Another thing, your legs are horrendous. Veins and fat are not attractive, so showing them off with short skirts doesn’t help you at all. At least the bulk that I have is mostly muscle because I actually stay active. And I lift weights that are heavier than five pounds. I don’t have to lie about playing a sport. You can look my name up in the papers and see that I can strike someone out while I play on my Varsity softball team. I don’t have to lie about loving video games or pretend to like them, just to get guys to like me. I like them all on my own. I don’t, however, like watching people play them. [ Just so John doesn’t jump on my case about me not wanting to watch him play Final Fantasy ].
I can’t really say much else, besides that you’re a lame bitch. I don’t really know you. All I know is what I read in your journal and from what Jesse randomly says.
You don't get as much in your section as John does because really..you suck a lot more than he does, for some strange reason.
Ciao.
three months, Bitches!
Did it ever occur to you that I just wasn't as attracted to you physically as you thought I should have been. That you aren't as incredibly gorgeous as you think you are? Maybe if you took the time to bathe more than once a month, or not put glue in your hair. Even bothering to wash your clothes might have helped in turning me on to you. But you are dirty, and not very good looking. Yes, I thought you were attractive at one point. I liked your eyes, and I liked the colour of your hair - but your teeth are grimey. Your nose is hideously shaped, yes I know mine is large - no need to point it out. You have a mole on your chin, with tiny hairs that grow out of it. I always hated it. You look horrible without makeup, maybe you should go back to being goth. Whatever style you've been attempting, hasn't worked out for you so well. Not many people like that you wear the same outfit for a week straight, believe me - I've heard them talk about it. I never had sex with you because I didn't even trust your body to be clean. Who knows what kind of street trash you've had sex with. You seem to fuck anything that will let you, you may have even tried your dog at some point. Do you really think I wanted to open myself up to being infected with whatever diseases you more than likely have? For some reason, sources say no. I never really trusted you because of your personality. You never opened up to me at all, so I never really got to know you. Why would I have sex with someone I don't know? Another thing, do you really believe you could have pleased me with what you have? Something you aren't even proud enough of to show to anyone over the internet without Photoshopping first? Even your good friend from middle school? Speaking of underdeveloped body parts - why does it matter so much that my "tits" aren't huge? I'd rather not have back problems. I'd rather have guys looking at my eyes rather than my chest. Why is that such a problem? Why is it that you always want whores? But are too cheap to pay for a real one? You can't seem to get your own decent girlfriend because no one wants to be with a prick who won't even open doors for them. You're going no where in life, John. Even if you do get a decent job somehow, you'll never have a decent life. You'll never be able to find completion, because you'll always be bored with something - you'll always find something to hate.
As for the way I used to be - Yes, I said random things a lot [ like "mew" ]. I guess I wasn't as good at making up stories as you were. I wasn't so creative as to make up a pretend boyfriend who commited suicide just days after I told him I loved him. I wasn't so creative as to pretend I was the best fighter around, when in reality - I curled up into a little ball and let people kick the crap out of me. I tried to stand up for my friends, but when yours were in trouble..all you did was call the police to have them handle the situation. You never did anything to anyone while I was around. Once, we were walking home and some kids were infront of us - you wanted them to get angry, and you kept saying that ripping out their arms would bring you great Joy. Everything was "Joy". For a good couple of minutes. Try expanding your vocabulary, without having to consult a dictionary first. Another time, all you did was have me stand by your backpack while you used your height to try to intimidate someone. You pushed them a little, rather than just hitting them. What was that? Whenever I hear about you getting into fights, it's always you ending up on the ground being a pathetic kid curled into a ball. It really confused me how you could hurt yourself, but couldn't take someone else hurting you.
That's another thing to chalk up. The cuts on your arms and legs were never attractive, and never will be. It wasn't cool to send people on guilt trips saying that they were the cause of your meeting with a kitchen knife. "My girlfriend didn't tell me that she loved me. I will now slit my wrists and bleed all over the keyboard as I type to her from behind my safe computer screen." Lame. You always argued with me over the internet. Why didn't you ever tell me "Hey, you suck." to my face? Why did it take you six months to break up with me if you hated me so much? And why weren't you even decent enough of a human being to do it in person? And why did you write that sappy letter a couple days later about you crying and listening to Voltaire all night?
You said "To be honest, if she was hornier and has something more uptop, i woulda stayed with her a bit longer.” But what makes you think that I would have stayed with you? I was the one who gave up on you for the last time. I found someone who was better than you in every way. Why would I even have bothered with you, after I met him? I was with you for so long because I had no one else. You made me lose all of my friends, remember? You made me turn my back on my religion, remember? You made me hate my parents, remember? You made me hate my life, remember? Do you remember, John? I wasn’t the only one who ever pissed you off. I wasn’t the only one who ever did anything wrong. Yes, you opened my eyes to a few new things. Yes, you made me think twice about a few things I said or did. But no, you couldn’t change who I truly was. And that is exactly what you wanted to do. You didn’t succeed, and I think that makes you angry. Why else would you still be talking about me?
To Stacie: Why the hell do you hate me so much? I hardly ever did anything to you. All I did was date your exboyfriend. How does your new boyfriend feel about you obsessing over this issue so much? And for so long. You’d think after a year, you’d let it go.
As for the entire thing about you thinking you’re prettier than me: You’re short and fat. You have hideously large boobs, that I’ve been told sag. A lot. Mine are perky, with or without a bra. I’d rather be tall and thin than be overtaken by curves in all the wrong places. Another thing, your legs are horrendous. Veins and fat are not attractive, so showing them off with short skirts doesn’t help you at all. At least the bulk that I have is mostly muscle because I actually stay active. And I lift weights that are heavier than five pounds. I don’t have to lie about playing a sport. You can look my name up in the papers and see that I can strike someone out while I play on my Varsity softball team. I don’t have to lie about loving video games or pretend to like them, just to get guys to like me. I like them all on my own. I don’t, however, like watching people play them. [ Just so John doesn’t jump on my case about me not wanting to watch him play Final Fantasy ].
I can’t really say much else, besides that you’re a lame bitch. I don’t really know you. All I know is what I read in your journal and from what Jesse randomly says.
You don't get as much in your section as John does because really..you suck a lot more than he does, for some strange reason.
Ciao.
three months, Bitches!