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FOUR i'm not the type to curse, but f..ck you ◀★▶
𝐃ear𝐊iara 𝐂arrera
I'm not the type to curse, but fuck you, Kiara. That's where all my coherent thoughts lead to.
Sarah leaves you, you leave me, I leave my friends. You've messed up the whole ecosystem, the thing you always say that humanity should fix. Or maybe Sarah did it. But this time, I can't blame her for everything, Kiara, and this time, I'm blaming you.
So damn you. And your stupid Pogue boyfriends, and your turtles, and whatever else you care about, except for the planet, that one's already messed up enough without me cursing it. It would be bad Karma. And you just hadto introduce me to that concept.
I'm pushing everyone away, which is what I swore to never do, and all I can see right now is the worst in everything. Outer Banks is the underworld ruled by unjust gods known as the Camerons.
And there's also you, the Grim Reaper of my positive thoughts. Or any thought which didn'tinclude you. I won't be a mess. I refuse to, but you seem to just want to tear me apart so badly. With one word, with one bat of an eye, there goes my happiness.
Oh, wow. My idea of 'positive' is so different than what it was before.
In summary, I'll quote Taylor Swift's wise words in 'betty' (the clean version, I've cursed enough in this damn letter). Go straight to hell Kiara. And stay there.
Or don't, since I'm there, and I'd hate to see you.
