i fucking hate you, i mean. WHY THE HECK DID YOU ALLOW ME TO FALL IN LOVE WITH A GUY I LOVE SO MUCH IT EVEN MAKES ME HATE HIM AT CERTAIN TIMES AND TO MAKE THINGS WORSE, THERE'S LIKE A 0.01% PROBABILITY OF WE MEETING EACH OTHER.
dear fucking god. you're the most rotten faggot with leperous-full-of-maggots reproductive organs i've ever known of.
and i'm not a religious person, let me tell you, but HECK, WHO THE FUCK DO I BLAME NOW? MYSELF? godfuckingdamnit i'm sick of this. i'm a university student and far of being something cool it's like a curse: i cannot go abroad in order to live there because i've already started a program; i have no money because i'm a common student; i can't do anyfuckingthing related to getting my hueg fat ass out this rotten country. just to add some sugar on it, my bf thinks the day he ever puts a foot on this land he'd be dead drunk. so.
again, i am not a religious person. but i've run out of people to blame. and this fucking chair is making my back hurt like hell. holyshit this is just OSOM.
oh, and as if things weren't great enough. mr bf began drinking beer as if he was some kind of The Simpsons' Barney's follower. now what the fuck's next, he himself telling me 'honey i think i'm becoming an alcoholic'? fuck, as if i hadn't enough imagining him getting drunk with only BEER. i mean what the fuck, hun, you drank up TWO SIX-PACKS in ONE DAY? now you'll say i'm just scolding you, why don't you try to understand? you said it. i'll say it now. i have feelings too, did you know that? i'm WORRIED. i WORRY about you, i try hard to do as much as i can (little because of the huge fucking distance) for you. BUT HELLO I'M TRYING, WHY? BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, SUCKER. don't tell me to look for someone from the same country or city as me. don't tell me to look for anyone else because IT HURTS when you give me that crap. seriously it hurts. i am sorry for every time i hurt you, i even wish i had died a long time ago, 'cause sometimes i dislike myself that much. but now i'm confused, i mean... i tell you things for the best. sorry i know i'm not your mother and speaking of which, you've got your own and i know that too, but oh, remember? i love you.
now the only fucking thing i feel like doing is covering my face with both hands and waiting some storm to blow me away.
i fucking hate you, i mean. WHY THE HECK DID YOU ALLOW ME TO FALL IN LOVE WITH A GUY I LOVE SO MUCH IT EVEN MAKES ME HATE HIM AT CERTAIN TIMES AND TO MAKE THINGS WORSE, THERE'S LIKE A 0.01% PROBABILITY OF WE MEETING EACH OTHER.
dear fucking god. you're the most rotten faggot with leperous-full-of-maggots reproductive organs i've ever known of.
and i'm not a religious person, let me tell you, but HECK, WHO THE FUCK DO I BLAME NOW? MYSELF? godfuckingdamnit i'm sick of this. i'm a university student and far of being something cool it's like a curse: i cannot go abroad in order to live there because i've already started a program; i have no money because i'm a common student; i can't do anyfuckingthing related to getting my hueg fat ass out this rotten country. just to add some sugar on it, my bf thinks the day he ever puts a foot on this land he'd be dead drunk. so.
again, i am not a religious person. but i've run out of people to blame. and this fucking chair is making my back hurt like hell. holyshit this is just OSOM.
oh, and as if things weren't great enough. mr bf began drinking beer as if he was some kind of The Simpsons' Barney's follower. now what the fuck's next, he himself telling me 'honey i think i'm becoming an alcoholic'? fuck, as if i hadn't enough imagining him getting drunk with only BEER. i mean what the fuck, hun, you drank up TWO SIX-PACKS in ONE DAY? now you'll say i'm just scolding you, why don't you try to understand? you said it. i'll say it now. i have feelings too, did you know that? i'm WORRIED. i WORRY about you, i try hard to do as much as i can (little because of the huge fucking distance) for you. BUT HELLO I'M TRYING, WHY? BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, SUCKER. don't tell me to look for someone from the same country or city as me. don't tell me to look for anyone else because IT HURTS when you give me that crap. seriously it hurts. i am sorry for every time i hurt you, i even wish i had died a long time ago, 'cause sometimes i dislike myself that much. but now i'm confused, i mean... i tell you things for the best. sorry i know i'm not your mother and speaking of which, you've got your own and i know that too, but oh, remember? i love you.
now the only fucking thing i feel like doing is covering my face with both hands and waiting some storm to blow me away.
