Oh.

You’re “prooobably” not going to? You make me feel so fucking stupid. You’re twenty years old. 

Maybe my life has just become too professional for you. Pretty soon, you’re gunna be weighing me down. I don’t know what’d gunna happen then. 

We aren’t “already married” because there’s a huge world out there for me. For me, you little fucker. You don’t want the world. You want what you have.  

I’m honestly starting to think I’m genuinely a better person than you are.  I’m literally exceeding most of my friends…I’m exceeding you. You don’t have the determination or drive that I do….for anything.  You are a victim of your own life and you don’t have the motivation to change it.  

Don’t you dare try to call me “inexperienced” or “clueless.” There are things in this world I don’t want to know about because I don’t associate myself with them, therefore have hardly any need. I know it fucks with your brain. Your heart. Your lungs. I know you can have a stroke. Or die. That’s all I need to know.  

You say you hate it, but you’re still around it.  You’re such a little fuckhead.  

Please. Do ask me out on Valentine’s Day, because I’m going to say “No.”

Maybe if you’d invest in anything that is actually meaningful to you, besides me, you’d get your priorities straight.  We’d probably already be broken up forreal then though.  

If I tell you, you’ll probably get sad because most of this is so true….