This could’ve been a cute conversation. But, let’s get real.
> You’re the prettiest girl ever!
< Lol, you clearly don’t know what pretty is.
< In all seriousness. It’s you! Okay, I’m gonna stop. Being a creep now.
> How many girls have you said that to? Hahaha, I don’t believe you.
> 2. And how exactly would I prove it to you?
< Tell your girlfriend that shit.
> Oh.
—- You just can’t trust anyone with anything, which is exactly why I have trust issues. Whatever. I’m sorry to whoever has to deal with that shit. On the bright side, I commend myself for ending the conversation on that note. I’m not above killing people’s shit. Ohwell.
Don’t call your significant other perfect.
Especially if you don’t know what who he or she is doing behind your back.
“We’re cool, right?”
No. Fuck you. We’re not. You’re so stupid.
You prove my belief that I can’t trust anyone.
I guess I was stupider for trusting you.
“I fucked up, didn’t I?”
I’m glad I told you everything.
I’m glad I got everything off my chest.
I’m glad that you understood.
But, most of all, I’m glad you feel like shit for fucking up.
You fucked up royally, my good friend.
Hypnotiq.
(This post has nothing to do with alcohol in the slightest. And, no, I’m not being sarcastic.)
You. Are. Such. A. Bitch.
