I want so badly to believe that there is truth that love is real
So my newest ex boy tried to tell me off. Because I wrote an undeniably truthful entry about cheating on him and my lack of conscience. And here's my power trip. Though I don't doubt I speak the truth on any of it.
Remember after that first date when you said I was out of your league? That I had that, what was that silly term, "x factor"? And I tried to convince you otherwise? And I pretended you weren't right? I shouldn't have. Because truthfully, yes, I am out of your league. You're one of many many people just like you. Boring suburbanite kids, factory-made, a dime a dozen. Dying your hair red and black in hopes of looking unique. Another Peter Wentz wannabe. You'll never write anything as good as him, and his lyrics aren't even so great. You use the word "gay" as an adjective. That speaks volumes.
You'll never be so lucky to date another girl on the same level as me. Sure, I'm fucked up. I don't always do good things, or say the right things. But I'm interesting, and I'm smart, and I'm a damn good writer, and that's one of few things I'll admit to without anyone having to tell it to me. I'm too much for you. You don't deserve girls like me.
And that's why you had to go running back to your safety net, the comfortable, boring, Denny's-going girls you're used to. You aren't cut out for people like me. You can't hold your own. There are levels, and you're one below. You've been found lacking.
I wouldn't cheat on someone who wasn't worth cheating on.
And the ex? He caused me more hurt and heartache then I ever care to experience again, yet every second I spent with him is more worth the outcome than any time I ever spent with you. At least I learned something from him. And all I learned from you is something I knew. Never date suburban boys. They have no redeeming qualities.
You go through motions and you do what you're told. You're a pretty good kid, you just have nothing. You don't know the first thing about the right things to say, or when to say them. You have no sense of romance or sentimentality.
I hope you're happy being boring, living in cornfields for the rest of your life and working some office job, marrying with 2.5 kids, a golden retriever, and a big house in a planned community that looks just like everyone elses.
You're chickenshit and you aren't worth another half second.
Unfortunately, this isn't entirely about you, but more of a culmination of everyone I've ever known who's exactly like you. I've met you a million times before and I didn't even know it. You're a paperdoll, a manufactured, government approved product.
Mr. America.
Remember after that first date when you said I was out of your league? That I had that, what was that silly term, "x factor"? And I tried to convince you otherwise? And I pretended you weren't right? I shouldn't have. Because truthfully, yes, I am out of your league. You're one of many many people just like you. Boring suburbanite kids, factory-made, a dime a dozen. Dying your hair red and black in hopes of looking unique. Another Peter Wentz wannabe. You'll never write anything as good as him, and his lyrics aren't even so great. You use the word "gay" as an adjective. That speaks volumes.
You'll never be so lucky to date another girl on the same level as me. Sure, I'm fucked up. I don't always do good things, or say the right things. But I'm interesting, and I'm smart, and I'm a damn good writer, and that's one of few things I'll admit to without anyone having to tell it to me. I'm too much for you. You don't deserve girls like me.
And that's why you had to go running back to your safety net, the comfortable, boring, Denny's-going girls you're used to. You aren't cut out for people like me. You can't hold your own. There are levels, and you're one below. You've been found lacking.
I wouldn't cheat on someone who wasn't worth cheating on.
And the ex? He caused me more hurt and heartache then I ever care to experience again, yet every second I spent with him is more worth the outcome than any time I ever spent with you. At least I learned something from him. And all I learned from you is something I knew. Never date suburban boys. They have no redeeming qualities.
You go through motions and you do what you're told. You're a pretty good kid, you just have nothing. You don't know the first thing about the right things to say, or when to say them. You have no sense of romance or sentimentality.
I hope you're happy being boring, living in cornfields for the rest of your life and working some office job, marrying with 2.5 kids, a golden retriever, and a big house in a planned community that looks just like everyone elses.
You're chickenshit and you aren't worth another half second.
Unfortunately, this isn't entirely about you, but more of a culmination of everyone I've ever known who's exactly like you. I've met you a million times before and I didn't even know it. You're a paperdoll, a manufactured, government approved product.
Mr. America.