i don’t hate very many people, but i hate you. i hate your twisted definition of friendship and the way you make stupid little pouts when you want your way. you always have a hidden agenda and every nice gesture you make is to only mask the ulterior motives which ultimately benefit you more than anyone else.

you’re selfish. there’s no better way to say it. you reek of arrogance and narcissism and when you speak i can taste your foulness in the air. it fills up empty rooms and crowded hallways, pushing its way through in complete disregard of others.

you use people; you used me.

i’m not supposed to dwell on this. i’m supposed to be the bigger person. i’m not bigger, although i know i’m better. your actions have spoken louder than your false promises and i cannot shut out the deafening shrieks of your uncompassionate soul. it wails like a banshee because it has no direction other than towards the pain of others.

you are not my friend. you never were. you never will be.

people say i shouldn’t think about it, your little betrayal, your untrustworthy act. people say i should just get over it and move on. but i can’t — not when justice hasn’t been served, not when i can still see your horrible face smiling when it should be raw and bruised from my slaps. i am plagued with questions as to why you are still allowed to remain in my life, where i constantly have undesired access to your innerworkings.

it’s a miracle at least a few people are too jaded to see right through your transparent self. that way you always have some poor misguided fool to lean on and manipulate. i can’t believe i defended you against such accusations before. i was blinded by your deceit and now all i can think of is someone doing the same to you.

you deserve much worse than this world gives you. it’s a wonder you haven’t pushed me so far yet.