Monday, October 20, 2014

A Cheap Script

You: Oh my God, you're really doing this. You're actually blurting out these deviated words? Fuck off. I have nothing to say.
Me: DO NOT TURN THIS ON ME. You started this, making it a minefield of deceit and hurt. You fucking backstabbed me. You put a knife in my back and fucking twisted it. Fuck you, for God's sake, fuck you.
You: I never meant for it to go wrong. You kept zoning out and leaving me to my misery, forgetting our beautiful moments. Snubbing my kisses, my looks of lust, my looks of love. What do you expect me to do? Wait? Wait for what? Wait for the rest of my life and see you smoke your life away, drink your emotions and gamble our life-savings? Your ripped our wishlist, the things we got together to do, to-fucking-gether. You have the audacity to come here and say that I stabbed you in the back? I didn't stab shit. I held us together. Held this together. Worked my ass off to feed us and your addicted self.
You: That is you when you have nothing to say. Shutting everybody up. Shutting yourself up. Go fuck yourself. We're done.
Me: We're done when I say we're done.
You: Remove your filthy hand off my arm!
Me: I won't. You're staying here. I will never allow it.
You: Look at yourself. Smell yourself. You think I respond to you anymore? I do whatever I want to do, without anybody's consent, understand me?
Me: Yes. I understand you alright. Now my job is to make you want to stay, right?
You: Don't play your games. Fuck off, I'm leaving.
Me: Well the game just started.
You: Bye.
Me: Check your phone.
You: You wouldn't.
Me: I would. Now do you want to stay?
You: Come. Let's settle this.

I'm not that much of a writer. 

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