It had to be said

Oh, how sweet. You heard about that water main break on River Rd. and decided to check on me to make sure I was ok. How fucking thoughtful of you.  Shame you don’t think enough of yourself to leave that lying, ex-con, crack addict husband of yours. You know, the one that likes to use your face as an Everlast speedbag, cuz, he loooooves you and spends all your money so you can’t pay your loans. The loans that the parents of your other “bestest friend” co-signed for b/c we said you were responsible. The loans that they now  get calls from collection agents about.

I know you know about this blog, but whether or not you’ve suffered enough brain damage from the beatings  (or from  the drug use we now suspect/expect of you) to actually have found me here, is unknown. But just in case you have, don’t fucking bother to “worry” about me.  Were you afraid that your safety net might not be around the next time you wanted played your little mindfuck games with everyone? That the one person that held out hope for you would still be trying to convince your other friends to help you might not be around for round 435  of  “No Really, She’s Leaving Him This Time…For Good”? That the keeper of all your little secrets wouldn’t be able to  hang around for another chance for you to shit on me?

Let’s be clear about something here: I will not be around to help you ever again.  When you pulled your little  stunt in March, that was the proverbial nail in the coffin.  We are through.  Don’t check on me. Don’t worry about me.  Forget I exist.

Got it? Good.

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~ by pithycomments on December 23, 2008.

4 Responses to “It had to be said”

  1. In the future, you can just stand up and yell this to me over the cube wall.

  2. oy!

  3. Funny, I don’t remember any of this, but, okeydoke!

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