Oops. I did it again.
I'll just go ahead and say it: I'm done giving a certain dumbass chances. This little game being played has gone on far longer than should have been allowed. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times? Fuck off.
I've been more than patient; I've been damn near saintly. And for what? So some dipshit asshole can keep pulling puppet strings that are only there because I allow them to be? As if. There are certain things I will not tolerate, and the playing of mind games and pretty close to the top of that list. But no more. I don't care you you think you are or what your deluded ass mind has begun to believe has allowed you to believe you are to me. Enough is far beyond enough.
I'm sorry, did I lose you somewhere? Why don't I jump back a few beats and explain. See, there are certain individuals (let’s call them... losers; yea, that fits) out there who claim to want a type of companionship, be it platonic or sexual. And those, ahem, losers, will attempt to crawl into the cracks on your good side with promises of i want you, i need you, i love you. And you look at these people and go, well, they weren't all that the first time around but what the fuck, let's give 'em a chance.
I was annoyed at first, but that all changed when I realized that this particular loser would always be, despite the most passionate of arguments, a loser. And I do not associate with that particular type of individual. Yes, I am going to sound a bit cruel here, but I am better than that. And so are the people I allow to fill the space around me. So that annoyance morphed into a nice, tummy warming anger. I have yet to let lose the words of curse, but that's only because I've been playing nice-ish while on the phone. I'd much prefer the full-on glory that is me pissed the fuck off to wait until I can see that perfect look in their eyes when I tell them: I'm through (mostly cause they ain't bright enough to figure out that's already happened).
But now, I am finished. There are many types of bullshit I will tolerate but the sheer immensity of this loser's action have driven home the point that I need to close ranks. If you're not in the inner-circle, your chances of admittance are close to zero. Hell, I may thin the herd just to make a point. This won't last forever, though. The bullshit is not that personal, though it is enough to make me go boom.
And to think, I’ve been such a ball of sunshine lately. Huh, funny how that can all go to shit. You’d think people would learn: piss of a writer, get written about. Doinks.
Now, it’s not all doom and gloom; just as far as the reach out and trust someone (new) front. But… that is life, eh? Live and learn and then get fucked and swoop in with that good ol’ fashioned revenge. Warms the belly.
Here’s a tip: if you’re ever out to get that special (ed) someone back, don’t worry about all those fancy vengeance deals you see on the television. Just sit and wait. It might take some time, but trust me, it’ll be way past worth it. Still waiting? Excellent. Look! Here’s your chance. Watch as the loser comes to you with those puppy-dog eyes and (for once) real tears. Now hear them out. It goes something likeI’m sorry, I miss you, I love you, blah, blah, fucking blah… And here’s where they want you back in their life. And what is your response?
Look at that now. Crushed. Saddened. And alone. And you? Your conscience is clear. Sometimes Karma is a bitch who gets off her fat ass and actually works.
And that’s exactly what loser will get if they even attempt to contact me. Enough time has been wasted on this pointless effort of a relationship (not that it even got that far; I was still wandering around the can I trust this shit portion of the pre-trial proceedings) and I have no intention of wasting any more of my precious time.
So, if you’re reading this, and you suddenly feel as though I am talking about you, than by all means, think that. You could take a chance and try to say hi. And if you get a howdy back, you’re safe. For now. Cause let’s be honest, if you’re feeling a tinge of guilt and/or responsibility for the stream of consciousness that this column is, than prepare yourself. I won’t be tolerating this shit for much longer. And if you don’t shape up…
Consider me gone.