Sure

Excuse you, you little 16 year old teenage child, sitting there with that smile like you know everything, you suck.

You don’t understand, I mean I hate you.

You walk out of my life then you walk back in and throw an axe into the back of my head and expect to get away with it.

I mean you are the worst person I have ever met.

You knew the things you said to me would make me fall like I was a lead balloon but you whispered them anyway.

I mean, I miss you.

You told me so many things that weren’t true but in the moment, you made me believe that it was the real you. Not this you that no one likes and uses the N word like it is part of your breathing.

I mean, I love you.

You think I am a liar and you think I “obsessed” but who was the one to say the words first, I thought I was BLESSED.

I mean you can go away.

You didn’t delete my number, but I deleted yours. You didn’t stop replying. You are a contradiction and a liar if I ever saw one.

I mean, you deserve the best.

But only so you can have it ripped away and know how it feels.

I mean, I wish we never met.

The stitches that are being used to control the bleed are about to burst.

I mean, you are a curse.

One that sticks around even after true loves first kiss but yet no one can figure out why.

I mean, you scare me.

You disappear just to be found broken and hurting and when people try to grab your hand to pull you up, they’re left with a shard of glass stuck through their hand.

You make me feel special but here is the thing.

I make me feel special, that isn’t your job anymore.