When all the little things…….fall to shit

Revised on the 30th of January because my brain was collapsing when I initially wrote this.

How exactly does the world decide who to screw over and who to let live? Like who decides if you score you dads fat gene or your mums fitness obsession. Who picks which people get to meet their soul mate and which people have to kiss a score of frogs to even get a glimpse of said prince?

Like honestly boys!? Explain.

How can you in one breath tell a girl you like her, then in the next say you don’t want a girlfriend and finally in your follow up breath ignore the crap out of her for then being friends with your brother? Like SERIOUSLY? My stick is that. Guys say girls are complicated but when it comes down to it you lot can be equally mind fucking. You’re keen. Say you’re keen. You’re not keen. Then damn well say that. Friends with Benefits? Please. Just friends? fine by me. But don’t leave a girl stuck in no mans land with all the bombs crashing down around her. There’s only so many times you can pull her out and then loose your grip before she becomes as dangerous as the bombs falling around her.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK – You ask me to be clear then you hug me and say ok? THAT IS NOT AN ANSWER YOU GOD DAMN SEXY HAIR SWOOSHER. It’s not. I want that to then fall into actions. Take a bit of control of your words and put them to good use. I’m ready. I’m waiting. And I’m god damn lucky you don’t read this.

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