Fuck You Too

yeah, it's one of those days. THOSE days.
You know, where supposed friends stab you in the back? That's called the Three of Swords, by the way. Nicely drawn card.

Where other friends stumble over themselves, tossing excuse after excuse for why they can't spare thirty seconds of time a month to say hi.

And two of your supposedly closest local buddies completely space out, and then don't give a flying shit, about your birthday. Where they can't send a text, or a call, or a voicemail... nothing. They don't give a damn.

Call them on it. And what happens? ONE claims that he will try to fix it. We'll see. And the other says "She'll get over it."
Excuse me? I'll WHAT?

You don't know me very well buddy. I'd get over it, perhaps, if this were 4 months ago. I'd get over it if you were fucking capable of saying sorry once in a while. I'd even get over it if you were capable of looking beyond the edge of your nose for fifteen seconds.
But you're not, so I won't.

I can say that if you were here, right now? I'd knock your teeth in and make you swallow them. THEN I'd get over it. I'd get over it just fine.

You wonder why people are willing to hurt you? Because. Of. That. Fucking. Bullshit.

That's why. Because you wouldn't know how to be a good friend if someone printed out the lesson plan and nailed it to your brain. THAT'S why. You're a selfish, no good, self-centered, egotistical bastard.

And I hope you choke on it. Because when you need people the most, they'll have figured it out, and you'll be alone and unwanted. And guess what? Part of me will be laughing. AT you. Not with you, you. Go to hell.

 

P.S.  Don’t worry, none of you that actually bother to read this are the subject of this particular “fuck you”.  But I needed to rant, and rave… and now that I’m feeling a little more drained, maybe, just maybe, I can sleep tonight.  Doubtful… but it could happen.