Yes, please.

Shit on me even more. Thank you.

Trash me all over Facebook, then chat it up with your sister who molested you -multiple times- and fucked with your head. You're a fucking idiot.

I am more grown up than you will probably ever be.

I need to delete you. That's what I need to do. I don't even want to give you the curtesy of mailing the letter I wrote. I don't even feel the need to explain myself to you. You won't listen. You've never listened to me. All you care about it yourself. You only cared about me when you needed something. I'm not gonna do that anymore. I'm not going to let you suck the life out of me any longer. You make me feel like shit. You always have, and you always will. I can't sit around while you call me: slut, whore, stupid, idiot, fat, ugly. And while you make comments about how if something smells, it's me. Or how I look like shit. When have I ever done that to you, April? Why can't you understand that I hate that. Have I ever told you your stomach looks disgusting? Or that you need to lose weight? Or pointed out all your physical flaws? Or made fun of you constantly for one tiny thing?

No. Because that's not what friends do. They aren't supposed to be like that.

You're stabbing me in the fucking heart right now. I can feel myself wanting to apologize just so you will stop making me look like a cunt to everyone else. So I won't have to see all the shit you say about me anymore. But guess what? Even if I were to apologize, you would talk me down. Try to one up me. That's all you ever do.

I don't get it. Maybe you should take a psychology class, so you can see how fucked up you're being. But that's ridiculous. You would never acknowledge you did something wrong. At least not genuinly.

You don't need me, but I don't know if you believe that yet. You act like you do, but you always act like this after we fight. Oddly enough, you're always the one who comes running back to me full of apologies. I don't. I always forgive you, and set you up with another chance. I never say sorry first. I only do that if I know I'm in the wrong. But I never have been with you. You'd think that would have been a rather large flashing sign, two, or maybe even three fights ago.

You're breaking my heart right now. You're making me hate you. I don't want to hate you, I just want to close the door on our friendship for the time being. I never said forever. But if that's what you want, then go for it.

I would love to be able to watch your child grow up. But I guess it's ok that I won't be able to, because it would kill me if you raised him to be punk kid who gets into all the same shit his parents got into. And I honestly am not that skeptical of it happening. I wish that I could say that if I were there I could stop it, or change it, or help give him a better life than his disfunctional parents could, but I would not be able to. Because you wouldn't listen to me. You never have. You can't take advice. You can't take criticism. You can only take the roaring sounds of applause. And if you don't hear it, you show them how capable you are of hurting people.

Wait, you do that anyway.