The Conversation

i still fucking love you, even when you’re out there screwing around with that dipshit motherfucker. you’ll come crawling the hell back to me, you dumbass, you’ll finally pull your head outta your ass and realize that prick’s a goddamn waste of oxygen.

you’ll see he’s a half-brained, cocky little bastard who can’t give two shits about you beyond his limp-dicked ego. and you’ll remember i was the poor dumb son of a bitch who gave a rat’s ass when no one else would piss on you if you were on fire.

one miserable, hungover-ass morning, you’ll wake the hell up, choke on the pathetic dickweed you’re with, and it’ll smash into your skull how royally you fucked up. and yeah, i’ll probably still be here, because i’m apparently the fucking clown-faced jackass who waits for someone who tossed me out like a cum-stained tissue.