Dear Shithead,
Why are you so fucking controlling and moody and drunk. You make me want to bash my fucking face in. Nothing is ever fucking good enough for you. We are toxic together. You make me so fucking sick, I don't even need to shove my fingers down my throat after I eat, I just fucking think of you. Fuck. Now I know why son'bitches kill in the name of love. Ha, and you wonder why I starve and swallow bottles of pills. Make up your fucking mind, be with me or forget I exist. Kkkkthanks.
Sincerely,
Hannah's Tired Fucking Bones.
No comments:
Post a Comment