it's not all your fault, every whore needs a willing john to believe in your facade. I happily played the fool for you, but you're just not that interesting enough anymore for me to continue.
I think somehow by biting my tongue and being a friend to you, when you only call because you're having problems with your boyfriend, that I'll somehow redeem myself by this punishment. I never fell out of love with you. You were the one. ...and I secretly take pleasure in that you're getting everything you deserve.
I don't know you, I never did. I blame your addiction for our destruction, but deep down, you fullfilled every expectation that I hoped for in loving the tragic. You gave me the pain I wanted, and I resent it. I thought, hoped you'd be different and was disappointed you didn't prove me wrong.
you were the last of my great illusions. my words for you stop here.
i'm getting more and more attracted to you and I know better. why do I do this?
why didn't you just die in the hospital?
if you do nothing bout this roof/stepfather mess, you'll prove you never were good enough to be called my mother.
you're not as funnyas you think you are, you're not as ugly as you believe you are and you're not as loved as you hoped to be. would any of them really be there for you?