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I am in two communities. This one, and dear you. And for some of… - Shot through the heart. [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
we give love a bad name

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[Sep. 17th, 2004|11:39 pm]
we give love a bad name

lovesmellsbad

[hornymonkey]
I am in two communities. This one, and dear you. And for some of them, I've found that my posts belong in both communities.

Dear Journal:
Thank you so much. YOu are the only place I have to vent anymore. I have no one. I really think I literally would go crazy without you.
KiKi

Dear you:
You really are making me miserable. I'm so sick of you fucking up. And I've asked A LOT of people if I really am just being a bitch. And they all basically said the same thing. You could put a little more thought into having a bit more common sense. In fact a lot more common sense. I questioned people because I began to wonder, if I was being a complete bitch because it seemed like it was becoming way too frequent. You don't call even once until 11:30 at night. (And a wake up phone call half hour late was established to not count) You show up half hour-45 minutes late for us hanging out when we only have an hour together, or you make plans with your friends both nights when you're parents go away, instead of taking into consideration that maybe you and your girlfriend could spend the night together. And these are just examples of the stupid petty mistakes that your constantly making. And I really don't think I can or want to take part of this relationship much longer. Your really fucking making me angry. You really don't know how to have a girlfriend after two years with me? You don't know what ticks me off? Get a clue. Grow up. Get your head out of your ass. Girls don't ake it lightly when you cheat on them, and then cover for yourself with technicalities. Or when you show up late, or don't call, or say something stupid, or... so on and so forth. You're not ready for a relationship. I should have realized that a year ago. Fuck you.
Yours Truly,
Your absolutely fucking miserable and tired girlfriend.
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