You know, I'm swell, just f*cking peachy at the moment.
Can't you tell? or maybe I don't look angry enough, huh?
Well I am angry, I downright am.
Nothing else can bring me down at this point. I hate to complain, I really do, but sometimes you can only take so much of crap and I've been taking everybody's bullsh*t long enough!
She thinks she can make me cry? She thinks she can spit her words in my fucking face and think I gave a motherf*ck? Think wrong my ex-friend 'cause I don't give a f*ck about you or that guy who is supposedly my friend.
You say I'm a bad person for lying to you about hanging out with this guy and now you try to humiliate me because we're not friends anymore for a juvenile f*cking thing such as that? Screw you. Well I've got to say is f*ck you and whoever the fuck believes I'm such a bad person for not telling you something straight away like "best friends" are supposed to do. We're not attached to the f*cking hip, life moves on and so should you, live and let die, stop being such a pansy little b*tch about ridiculous sh*t from the past and stop blaming me for everything. If you absolutely do not care about me anymore then stop bringing the situation up. It's done and gone with.
And how about you, Matt. . .
Sure it was all f*cking butterflies and rainbows in the beginning, him telling me he had feelings for me, asking me out three times with the outcome of rejection in the end yet he still stayed. We had good times, when we talked he grabbed my hand and held it, he liked to cuddle next to me and I let him be. And I so generously gave him foot massages after he worked his ass off at work leaving him slightly handicap from the pain. I was nice, seems I was a little too nice, not taking anything he did personally such as that time he'd told me we'd hangout yet he never texted me or nothing, he'd basically left me hanging, we hadn't seen each other for nearly a month at that time. Time I'd spent wondering if he didn't want to see me anymore because he'd met my exhausting family. T'was all quite nifty I suppose, 'cause in the end, he turned out the be the complete opposite of what he'd first set out to be.
You let her look at me and say sh*t about me like that when me and my friend run into y'all at Dairy Queen, well what a "best friend" you are.
Isabelle and I aren't talking and never will again from the looks of it and her rude f*cking attitude was more than I could take for a fucking night. Well, later that night he didn't text me to even say I'm sorry or nothing, which I'm glad he didn't do, good riddance, and I don't plan on answering his messages anymore. Sure it may be juvenile and make me look like a complete drama queen about the situation which in the end would give Isabelle something else to laugh about revolving around me, but I seriously don't give a f*ck anymore, sh*t seems to be a constant battle with me now.
Oh so you want to use me as your own personal fucking diary Mathieu? Go straight ahead, I'm not judging you, nor will I, but at the end of the day if I'm only that person you go to to rant and ramble your heart out, then find some other way to cope with your problems. If that's all I'm good for then maybe we should stop being f*cking friends. Go camping go join some f*cking bowling team 'cause that's what makes you "happy" apparently when you're crabby, and not acting like a pansy little pr*ck. Make that anal b*tch Isabelle do those things with you too, would be good, maybe she should calm her self-righteous self the f*ck down too. That girl who likes to make it apparent to everybody if something doesn't float her f*cking boat, and who has a little b*tch fit if sh*t doesn't go her way.