iLoveYouWithaKnife
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Mar 30, 2002
- Messages
- 8,351
This is a letter to you to let you know how I truly feel about you. I am not going to use words that will make my definition on who I think you are as a person be dulled or sharpened, to refrain from hurting you. I am going to be brutally honest.
I hate your fucking guts.
Do you remember the first time I met you? I think I do. I was twelve years old and you came up to me in the mall. You said you would sing "yellow submarine" for me if I gave you a dollar. I laughed and walked away. You sang anyway. I fell for you then. But just like all my wicked love affairs, me wanting you... didn't last. And holy fuck, sitting here thinking this far back, I realized the reason I stopped liking you. It was because you strung me along for bit. You had a girlfriend. I guess this is just goddamn living proof that history does repeat itself.
Two years later, you would dedicate your time to pining over me. I told myself that I wouldn't go out with you because I didn't want to hurt you. I knew how I was. And I grew to love you as my friend. But really, I think I just wanted you to pine over me. I think I secretly loved to watch it.
Do you remember the first time you saw me cry? I do. I was eighteen years old, sitting in your car outside of the house I shared with my boyrfriend, at that time. I told you how much I loved you. And then I devoted my time to avoiding you. Because it just wasn't right.
Do you remember the time I asked you to please come to Philadelphia, when I was living there? I do. I was twenty-one years old and I really needed you there. I was so fucking strung out it was unbelievable and I needed something familiar. You never came and that was the day I decided I hated you. You weren't there for me, when I needed you. I got clean for awhile and we were friends. I never told you how much I hated you for not being there. But I did. I really did. And the first time we had sex you thought it was spectaular. You said you have been waiting for that moment for such a long time. You made it seem like this special thing. I just wanted to fuck you, and smoke pot with your girlfriend.
I tried to refrain from saying anything. I let it all build up inside of me, and one drunken night I broke down to a friend of mine. I couldn't believe that you didn't tell me. My friend told me that we, as in me and you, would probably be silent for a few weeks but eventually I'd say something, sparking a dispute. I decided the next day, sober, that I wasn't going to say anything to you at all. I was just going to keep shut.
And one night sitting on my bed, I said something. And you gave this long, sad sigh and nothing else was said. Where the fuck do you think you get off being sad? You created all of this.
Last night when I decided that a 3.30 am bonfire and barbeque would be a great idea a bunch of us from the bar piled in cars to drink the night away.
I found you, sitting in the living room, and I broke down. I had enough. Do you remember what I said to you? I don't. Because I was drunk. I do know, for a fact, that whatever I said, I meant. I know that everything I said to you was honest and sincere. And that conversation had to happen. I walked out of the room wiping my eyes. I had to finish grilling. I had to get away from you.
And what did you do later? Something that makes me realize what a fucking bastard you are. Did you think that I would feel as though you care about me? I felt as though you would do anything in the world, hurt who ever you wanted, just to get what you wanted. So I let you. I let you manipulate me. Maybe it was special to you. I was just twenty-one again.
You just proved my point. And now I can move on.
I told you that I said everything I needed to say. And I did. And now I am done with this twelve year friendship and ten year love affair.
I hate your fucking guts.
Do you remember the first time I met you? I think I do. I was twelve years old and you came up to me in the mall. You said you would sing "yellow submarine" for me if I gave you a dollar. I laughed and walked away. You sang anyway. I fell for you then. But just like all my wicked love affairs, me wanting you... didn't last. And holy fuck, sitting here thinking this far back, I realized the reason I stopped liking you. It was because you strung me along for bit. You had a girlfriend. I guess this is just goddamn living proof that history does repeat itself.
Two years later, you would dedicate your time to pining over me. I told myself that I wouldn't go out with you because I didn't want to hurt you. I knew how I was. And I grew to love you as my friend. But really, I think I just wanted you to pine over me. I think I secretly loved to watch it.
Do you remember the first time you saw me cry? I do. I was eighteen years old, sitting in your car outside of the house I shared with my boyrfriend, at that time. I told you how much I loved you. And then I devoted my time to avoiding you. Because it just wasn't right.
Do you remember the time I asked you to please come to Philadelphia, when I was living there? I do. I was twenty-one years old and I really needed you there. I was so fucking strung out it was unbelievable and I needed something familiar. You never came and that was the day I decided I hated you. You weren't there for me, when I needed you. I got clean for awhile and we were friends. I never told you how much I hated you for not being there. But I did. I really did. And the first time we had sex you thought it was spectaular. You said you have been waiting for that moment for such a long time. You made it seem like this special thing. I just wanted to fuck you, and smoke pot with your girlfriend.
I tried to refrain from saying anything. I let it all build up inside of me, and one drunken night I broke down to a friend of mine. I couldn't believe that you didn't tell me. My friend told me that we, as in me and you, would probably be silent for a few weeks but eventually I'd say something, sparking a dispute. I decided the next day, sober, that I wasn't going to say anything to you at all. I was just going to keep shut.
And one night sitting on my bed, I said something. And you gave this long, sad sigh and nothing else was said. Where the fuck do you think you get off being sad? You created all of this.
Last night when I decided that a 3.30 am bonfire and barbeque would be a great idea a bunch of us from the bar piled in cars to drink the night away.
I found you, sitting in the living room, and I broke down. I had enough. Do you remember what I said to you? I don't. Because I was drunk. I do know, for a fact, that whatever I said, I meant. I know that everything I said to you was honest and sincere. And that conversation had to happen. I walked out of the room wiping my eyes. I had to finish grilling. I had to get away from you.
And what did you do later? Something that makes me realize what a fucking bastard you are. Did you think that I would feel as though you care about me? I felt as though you would do anything in the world, hurt who ever you wanted, just to get what you wanted. So I let you. I let you manipulate me. Maybe it was special to you. I was just twenty-one again.
You just proved my point. And now I can move on.
I told you that I said everything I needed to say. And I did. And now I am done with this twelve year friendship and ten year love affair.
