Good Satan, I turn [redacted] this week. While I don’t feel, act or look the big [redacted], it is in fact happening. At first, I wasn't at all thrilled with the idea, but then I realized the possibilities. A new [redacted] means old bullshit can finally, and irrevocably, be shoved down the garbage disposal. And that makes turning a new age so fucking worth it. So, without further ado, allow me to introduce… the fuck you list.
(Oh damn, I should probably tell you what the fuck you list is. Well, it is my goodbyes to the useless pieces of shit that I have allowed to remain in the vicinity of my life (in person or thoughts) for far too long. These expiration dates passed and the rotten leftovers need to be thrown out with the trash.)
Now for the fun. And by fun I mean also adding these fucktards to my recently renamed list. It used to be named after the person who, for over a decade, remained in the top spot. But no more. So for now, let’s just call it my Sludge (that’s what I call my pet sledgehammer) list.
Shortstack. Fuck you. Why? Because you suck at the whole best friend thing. No, you really do. Blowing me off when I needed friends around (this would be back in December when our dear Scout was in the loony bin) because your girlfriend had issues with us hanging out? And this, after all you have said I’ve done for you? Oh yea, I’ve been grinding my teeth about that for months. Asshole. And wow, even with my intense pissed off-ness, I still reached out to you when your girl and you called it splits. Silly me. So yea, fuck you.
Stalker. Psycho. What we had was SEX. Fun (for you at least), nasty, sweaty sex. Not a relationship that involves dinner, movies and flowers. And thank fucking god we didn’t try it at that level. The shit you said to me every night in your drunken rages (I swear, every person I end up with recently is either in AA or in dire need of AA - where’s the happy fucking medium?). Getting rid of you was the best thing I EVER did. Let me repeat, just so we are clear: no one has the right to speak to me the way you did. When one is foolish enough to do see, watching my ass move in the opposite direction the kindest response one can expect. Fuck you.
“friend.” Word of advice here: an apology, no matter how many times uttered, means shit without any kind of follow through. Not a single invite to anything? Really? Hard to believe you missed me when you seem to have forgotten I exist. That shit makes this so much easier. I will never forgive you. Ever. You will never earn it. Ever. How do I know? You don’t even try. You think that using the same old so so sorry routine is going to work? No. So I’m out. You’ll be fine though. You’ve got those “real” friends back now. You know, the ones you said dragged you down and turned you into a shitty person? Guess you must like being an asshole. After all, you play the part so well. Fuck you.
Scout. My useless, fucked up cunt of an ex. Oh, the cruel things I’d love to say to your face, if only I could stand the sight of it. I stayed with you through mental hospital stays and prison terms. And what do you do? Dump me, over Facebook no less! There is not enough forms of the word fuck to properly express how much you hurt me and how much I want to hate you (don’t worry though, I’m working on it). I’m just happy I had good friends and good booze to carry me through that shithole of a night. The worst part is I actually fell for you. The fucking word love actually entered into the equation. Yea, that’s right; it may be small, cold, shriveled and black, but there is a heart beating in the center of that frozen storage shed and you, you worthless cunt, broke it. Fuck you.
The chain is on my door. Understand?
Ah, I feel better now. It’s good to get this shit out in the open. Been holding this in for too long now. Honestly. I’d rather say this in person, to all at once, while under the influence of alcohol (booze kills that last filter between my brain and my mouth – wouldn’t want that fucker in the way). But at least its been said and done.
Enjoy my birthday. I know I will.