i.
what a craft. just how many times did you lie on paper that you have never felt like throwing things around or breaking things apart, huh, because apparently you don’t like to talk, do you, why should you, anyway, if making a damage to your knuckles or any cheap wooden door was enough?
ii.
it’s enough.
because talking is a vicious circle and everyone is seeing the difference, those who understand or in amazement, those who feel the same and have other ways to unfuck themselves. you’re all the same. all no thanks to her.
iii.
what a masterpiece. is it because she’s considered young, still, already privileged just like the rest of her merry band of the snob, all blind to the blatant disrespect they’ve got because that’s how they treat others anyway, so it’s a win-win situation for all of us. or not. i stopped caring the first twelve weeks and now, in my second new year, i’ll say this as easily as whenever the sun rises in the east;
the only thing i learned from you is how not to be you
iv.
i understand nobody’s perfect, but she's the worst person i’ve ever had the displeasure to work with.
v.
go on, revise this.
