What a meeting of the minds that must have fucking been.
Did you have fun whoring about?
Did you speak of dirty things, mindless things, or hurtful things?
Still, again and again, I don't know why it is you think you're better than me.
I don't know why you think you can say things about me,
why you think you can slip something by me,
or why you give all these stupid little hints.
You act like I care about your day
or your week
or your life at all.
You act like you know me, and that might be the most ridiculous claim to fame you've got going.
And that's saying a lot, you realize.
No, of course you don't, what was I thinking?
And it persists. Because you're my plaything.
Oh God yes, you make noises and arguments and wail and scream and beg to differ.
You try to tell me the opposite is true and give me the most ridiculous attitude...
but fuck, how could it be so?!
Just take ONE TRUE MINUTE and look around you!
For once in your life open your eyes and notice things AREN'T going according to the all-encompassing master plan!
You? God no.
Me? Not on your life.
But could you ever even do that? Are you even ever true to yourself?
No.
Opening the eyes of the blind? Hardly helpful.
It'd just expose more of your milky white deformities.
You're a lie wrapped up in a big fat security blanket.
A mistake of your parents and a mistake of mine.
A big one, but a mistake, and nothing more.
When it rains it pours, eh?
Lobotomies half price... go get one...
then you'll have an excuse to behave the way you do.
The funniest part though... after everything else...
after I know I should stop writing,
after the rythm's gone out of my writing about it,
is your pure stupidity.
Your ultimate ignorance. Your feeble grasp of the goings on around you.
But your stupidity and blindness... they sure take the fucking hilarity cake dude.
Don't I know it.
All the good times I've spent laughing at you.
I'd feel guilty if I thought you were ever bright enough to catch on,
or easygoing enough to not be as stubborn as me in your views.
I'm laughing at you, and you think you're laughing at me.
You think that makes us even? Let me let you in on something then.
I'm not the only one laughing at you. Oh GOD no.
You're the only one laughing at me.
And you... you're doing it for the wrong reasons!
Just... go. Go and play.
Go play in the mud like a good mongoloid, and mommy'll ring the dinner bell when it's time to come in and get something go eat in that big ferocious tummy-tum of yours.
Just remember... I don't have to explain anything to you
(but see, for you to understand anything I *would* have to explain *everything* to you),
and I don't owe you anything.
And you can't make up your mind whether or not you want me to anyhow
because you still can't decide if you want to hate me
or want to BE me.
Everyone sees that, why can't you?
So now it's raining outside.
What 'cha gonna do about it, meathead?
GET OUT OF THE FUCKING RAIN, GEEZ!
(She used to laugh at you too, you know.
Laugh like I did.
Then she got soft and died a bloody death.)