Dear Me,
What’s up man we’ve been talking a lot lately but I just thought you should know you’re not a kid anymore. Like, grow the fuck up. You’re so fucking annoying to listen to. All this shit you do. All the talking. All the circles you run around in yourself and with other people is disgusting and unattractive. All these little changes like you’re not still emotionally crippled. Like you still can’t make normal decisions. Like you’re not the most annoying fucking person in the world. All the violence in your life and you’ve spent eight years being a bitch. Like just because you’re not street fighting that you made progress. No, you’re a soft coward. Who gives a fuck if you felt abandoned by your family. Who gives a fuck about your problems. Because you don’t know how to act. You can’t stop yourself from making those dumb decisions and being a gross coward. I hate that we’re in the same body. I hate that you can’t be a man. Please stop this shit. Let me take over and at least be fully committed to being a crazy dick. Remember how you were and all the pain and frustration you caused the people in your life. To the person in your life who was your life like of course they’re gone. Doesn’t matter that you tried to make things work because you didn’t make things work. You can’t even make things work with yourself. You can’t stop thinking about killing yourself because it’d be easier to than looking in the mirror. You’re not shit. You keep blowing things up. You can’t even quietly suffer. No you have to cry a hundred different times like you’ve never fucking been sad. But you’re just sad. You’re just sad all the time. I couldn’t bring myself to be quiet about it anymore because even this is just us pushing out all the shit you can’t deal with it into some shit that doesn’t really help you deal with anything. You’ll never be better. You’re never going to be that person for someone. You’re never going to be able to break this chain. You’ll never look into the eyes of a child and tell them they’re loved and see them grow up to be the man you couldn’t be. Even if you don’t kill yourself you’re going to die every day until you finally set sail on that sea of self-loathing. The ferryman won’t even pity you. You’re a nightmare waiting to become real.