Poetry

aaaand this is what happens when i'm sick

Fuck you.

My throat hurts and I'm tired and fuck you.

Fuck you and the fact that i still think you're cute even though I never want to see you again, and I should be over this by now but fuck you.

fuck you and your stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid glasses and your stupid fucking voice and your stupid fucking brain

fuck you

fuck you because I'm sick of not thinking about you.

but i hate thinking about you.

fuck you because who else do I have to blame. 

fuck you because tomorrow's really fucking important and if I wake up sick I'll blame you 

fuck you.

fuck you because I can't talk to you. fuck you because I'm angry and I used to write good poems and now all i write are angry fucking rants and I blame you so fuck. you.

fuck. you.

I haven't heard about you in a while. I hope everything's okay.

I hope things are getting better. I hope you learned to cook different things. I hope you'll get everything together.

I hope you're happier than you used to be. 

I hope you've figured out everything, and I hope you never have to see me again. 

I just hope everything works for you in the end.

well i guess i gave up on not cursing