I then thought better and, in realising that I needed to have it out but still in, decided to write you (in)directly instead.
Dear Inconsiderate Ass;
You've done it.
You've disrespected me again. And in favour of what? Your new, 18-year-old fuck buddy?
There are myriad reasons I can think of:
1. You do not concern yourself with my feelings because you don't care.
2. You know that my giving nature is to remember, but inevitably forgive, usually only in your case.
3. You see me as a trifle instead of as the very best friend one could hope for, being all-giving, all-sharing, all-supporting, all-everything. My value is lost on you.
4. You really are that fucking dumb.
This is not the first unsent missive aimed telepathically in your direction.
By now, I doubt very much that it shall be the last.
But I tell you, son: I am so sick of your shit.
I might have to bitchslap you and make you cry in order to show you how I feel when you disregard me so.
I've expressed these thoughts to you, but I imagine they were considered to be another shining representation of how little I can possibly mean, because how can it be that bad if I'm talking to you about them instead of screaming at you and crying?
I didn't scream at you because it's disrespectful and counter-productive. I didn't cry because I didn't want to seem "emotional" or "irrational", which I would have, to your feeble little mind.
I told me and I told you that I wouldn't let you make me cry again, and yet here I am, a headache growing and regret flowing.
The little red flags grow brighter and hotter than the big ones, just so you know. You just keep raising them with your stupid little "oh, I didn't think"s.
Fucking think about me, asshole.
I think about you.
- I remember that you hate Dallas Green, so I change the station or turn down the volume when you're in the car.
- I'm tutoring you in my beloved subjects to help you.
- I'm doing your goddamned homework.
- I've dropped everything for you because you needed me and come running.
- I've scrubbed gravel out of your gaping wound, and nursed you back to usefulness.
- I've driven you when you needed a lift, and counselled you when you needed some wisdom, and always told you the truth, hard or not.
- I've never, EVER lied to you.
- I've never, EVER screened your call.
- I never, EVER "didn't think".
I don't do these things because I'm in love with you; I'm not.
I do them because I love you. And I respect you. And I hold you dear.
Clearly, these feelings are not reciprocated.
I don't know what to do with you now.
Sincerely, go blow yourself,
R...
