Second Period Boredom

Today I’m grieving the death of a minor.

Actually, you might know them.

I know **you** know them.

You let me fuck with you because it was fun, right? You thought all my lies about being an adult were true. You fucking idiot. Oh, oh, but no, you were the good guy. Right?

That’s what we are saying?

You treated me so well, didn’t you?

Now I pretend you don’t exist because you make me sick. Do you really not know what a 24 year old looks like or are you just that—

It doesn’t matter. You won’t apologize even if I asked because you didn’t know.

I’m getting distracted. I’m talking about the minor. They are dead. You are dead too so I don’t feel that bad. I made it out fine.

I wish I were the one dead but I have shit to do.

You don’t. You don’t deserve my anger.

You don’t deserve this fucking writing.

You don’t deserve to pretend like you’re all torn up because you’re so in love with this—whoever they are. I’m here to remind you of the mess you made. I’m here to fucking haunt you.

Have a great fucking day.

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