*In my world we say what’s on our mind. This won’t change anything, but I feel a lot better for having written it.
This is not an attempt to open up any lines of communication. I want nothing to do with you. I have made that very clear. I am not looking for a response. This is my way of getting closure. I know that you’re reading this. I know that you ask about me. You should stop.
You can defend yourself to the people that listen to you and still believe the bullshit that flows from your mouth like…well, the bullshit that flows from your mouth.
You are the scumbag. You are the liar. You are the philandering (that means cheating, you stupid fuck) piece of shit that you constantly accused me of being. You went to great lengths to deceive me, why? Why didn’t you just leave me alone? Why did you think I deserved this?
I already know the answer, because you’re mentally ill. You play games with people’s emotions for your own entertainment. You get your jollies from deceiving people, it makes you feel superior. You aren’t, you are the lowest life form on the planet. I’ve coughed-up mucus with more integrity than you.
You wasted my time. You pretended to be someone you aren’t. Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Did you think you could threaten and intimidate the whole world into silence, like you did me? If you wanted to snort cocaine and screw guttersnipes, you should have done that and left me out of it. I bet it was great fun running around behind my back and making a fool of me, while trying to control my every action.
Do you realize who the fool is now? Did you use your food stamp card to cut your lines? How do you look at yourself in the mirror every morning, or afternoon when you finally drag your worthless carcass out of bed, and not become nauseous? I have never seen anyone so brazen (that means bold, numbnuts) and unapologetic for taking things they have no right to.
People tried to warn me about you, I should have listened. Maybe I would have spared myself the fantastic experience of being relentlessly stalked. I saw you, you aren’t very good at it. But, you should be used to hearing that by now…you aren’t very good at anything tangible (that means real, shit for brains). You’re awesome at creating your own little world, where you are always the victim and everyone is out to get you. You also excel at being selfish, dramatic, and violent. Good job, buddy…those skills have gotten you where you are today.
Everything you said you aren’t, you are. “I’m not a cheater,” lie. “I wasn’t doing coke,” lie. “I’m a good man,” lie. You aren’t a good man, you are a waste of human flesh. One seriously fucked-up individual. The more time I spent with you, the more I became like you…boy, am I glad that’s over.
You moved in with me, and then lived off me like a parasite. You played sick mind games, because it made you feel better about your pathetic existence. You were jealous of my son, you didn’t love him like he was your own. He was a nuisance to you. He took the attention off of you. He deserves my attention, you do not. How dare you use him to make people feel bad for you, as you ranted like a lunatic about me on Facebook. You didn’t care about him, why pretend you did? Did that get you laid?
How dare you tell people you had to leave Florida because of me. You had to leave because you ran out of people to live off of, you exhausted your supply of trusting people of which to mooch. I’m not on some committee that gets to decide who lives in the state and who doesn’t. You make your own decisions. I can’t make you do a damn thing. If I had these magical powers you’d be reading this from under a rock in the Hudson River.
People like you are hatched, they aren’t born.
How many women have you done this to? In case you were contemplating (that means thinking, jackwad) telling your next victim that you improved my life and helped me as a person, like you told me you did with all of your previous girlfriend’s…I recommend you don’t. I am a better person now as opposed to when we met, but I did all that work on my own. You deserve and will receive absolutely no credit. You did nothing but try to break me. You didn’t succeed. Through your torture I learned what a strong, intelligent woman I am…and what a weak, miserable prick you are.
I hate your fucking haircut, you psychotic bastard. Since you sent me about 900 text messages asking me if I liked it, I figured I’d give you the answer.
It’d be nice if you stopped trying to damage my character and reputation. For someone that hated my blog, you sure read it a lot. Did you start your own? “The World According to Bullshit” wasn’t that what you were going to call it? At the time it was an insult, but now it seems like an appropriate name. Maybe you could put offensive, horribly misspelled cartoons on it?
The demanding that people not associate with me, that was a nice touch. Were you afraid I was going to tell them what you really are? It’s hard to elicit (that means get, Mongo) sympathy from people when they find out what a giant douche you are. Well played.
There’s a lot more I’d like to say to you, but I’m not going to. I’m going to move on with my life and forget I ever met you. I was going to say “knew you,” but I never actually did. I just spent a lot of time with a monster.
I don’t burn bridges, fucker. I blow them up.