This is A Hate Post

Yes, for most people, I am a bitch. A person that you could never get close to, a two-legged creature that speaks the same language yet you'll never understand, a body that emits unbearable heat pronounce as 'Dangerous: I Bite'. For the whole of my godamned fuckin' life, I knew this all along.

Yes, I shouldn't have to shout to your ears just to get some attention from you about which parts of conversation you could utter and which one I forbid because you already know. You, that someone whom I call a friend of mine, someone who ask me to listen, someone who sit next to me with hands around my shoulders like old pals, someone who smilingly points his finger at me and say 'best friends'. But you just did it the other way around. I just couldn't fuckin' believe it.

Yes, I don't like her for the unexplainable reasons I keep for myself. It's just we're not made of the same materials. Yes, I have issues around relationship and have enough of it. Thus, I want to keep and seek as many people as I could lay my hands upon and hold on to some of them. And that's why I never show my dislike or I'd be exiled. She's everybody's favorite person, for fuckin's sake! And who the fuck am I to complain? I'm just a loud, grumpy, old, hag who posts hatred and curses and longing and put a happy, pleasant mask with--hopefully--big, killing smile on my deformed face. As I believe nobody has the rights to judge anybody, here I am, stamping her forehead with a big, red, letter A for Annoyance--feeling-based reasoning. I don't have any obligation to be nice to everybody and vice versa. I'm free to like and dislike people as people have their own freedom to hate or love me. Therefore, never ask me why I don't like you, my dear little lady. Sometimes it comes together with what socalled attitude. Mine and yours.

Yes, you may call it jealousy. It's an ugly, green monster in your closet; not among lovers, but us, women. Sometimes we can only think with our tits, not with our brains since some of us don't have the privilege of having one. Before your face, my dear, I daresay I've been blessed with both tits and brain but never with look. Try to look for your picture in the dictionary sometimes. Just for fun. And you'll find one under the entry of Drama Queen. Well, you can't always get what you want in one fuckin' package, can you? You do, perhaps, if the universe evolves around you. Too bad it doesn't.

Yes, my lovely ex-friend. It's time for me to be back to my old habit: wickedly nasty. I can't trust you. You failed to get it and I don't have enough respect to keep you as a friend no more. I'm through. I'm going to stop asking how are you doing, quit being a nice sista, hold my tongue, plug my ears, cross my hands and hold my head high. You go your own, I'll go mine. If sometimes we cross paths, I'll say hello. If you lost your way, I will sympathetically sigh and say: there goes another misled young gentleman, juts like any other. And that's it. No follow-up's. I'll lay back and enjoy the show. You make the scene and I watch. Fair enough.

Hey, don't bother to explain. It's not your fault. You did that based on 'love' wrapped around the core entitled 'pride'. You've got to win her heart, I understand that, whatever it cost. Even selling your own mother, I presume. I knew this thing would come one of these days. It was written all over your face, yet, I was trying to have faith in you out of my scarce benevolence. I guess I'm not suitable to become a Jesus-like lady who will give her left cheek after the right one was slapped. I slapped back. Haha!

Shit! It's been days and this fury hasn't subsided. Gotta go to Anger Management class, I guess. Jancuk!

ps. Yes, this post is about you and you. You both suck. Big time.


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