My Perfect Partner: Revised

Athiesm, beautiful, Beauty, equality, Family, feminism, Future, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, New, Partner, Peace, Perfect, Personal, Relationships, science, Small Things, Smiling

About five months ago, on august 1st of 2016, I wrote a post about my perfect partner. While most of it is still true, I wanted to revise it. After going through my last relationship, some updating needed to happen.

My perfect partner would be taller than me, pretty fit or small, kiss really well. Someone who is sexual, and understand the appeal of large cities. Someone who would be down for adventure at any hour. They would remind me of what I love when I am sad. Preferably would have brown or dark hair, would wear leather shoes (probably oxfords or sandals). High libido. They would play chess, read for leisure, cook occasionally. Someone who would appreciate music with foreign lyrics and instrumental pieces. They would have the desire to see the world, to go places. Someone who loves foggy weather, as well as the rainy days. They would share my nerdy side, loving Lord of the Rings, Sherlock, The X-files, or whatever I’m interested in then as much as me. We would share the same taste in music and humor, I mean, a relationship with puns would have to be a good one. They kind of need to love sushi, because it’s literally my favorite. They would be an open-minded person who looks at (and doesn’t ignore) facts, someone who uses reasoning and skepticism to come to conclusions. A critical thinker, an intelligent being. Their occupation would be in a field of science or art, they would be a logical person with soft emotions. They would be passionate and caring, interesting but not a douche, kind but not in a delusional way. Ethically, I would see in them what I aspire to be. They would aspire to know everything they could, never stop learning. Someone who wants to make a change in the world, who is as crazy as I am in thinking that we could actually make a difference – but they don’t let that stop them.

Someone who would understand that I have my many emotional issues, and they wouldn’t guilt me for having them. They would understand that sometimes I need to be loved. Someone who wouldn’t mind my spam texting them, or that I over analyze the simplest of things. They wouldn’t mind that I can overreact to things, because let’s face it, I can make a lot of issues for myself. They would understand that I have a difficult time loving people, that I have a difficult time trusting someone after that trust has been broken. They would understand that I am a person who fluctuates in everything: emotions, weight, ideas. I’m constantly changing and don’t like settling.

Most importantly, we would want to make a relationship together work. We would make the other feel at peace, and loved. There will be no “if we’re still together then”, there would be trust and mutual satisfaction. There wouldn’t be that looming sense that one day we would break up.

I feel the intense desire to be in a long term relationship with someone like this. Surprisingly, nothing drastic has changed in the last five months, but a lot of little things were not the same anymore.

And of course, we would have to love each other.

Things That Make Me Happy

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Waking up well rested before 10am
Listening to a song that gives me chills
Seeing a good piece of art
Plants
Dogs that are excited to see me
When my nail polish dries smooth
When the teacher says there’s no homework
Making inside jokes with old friends
Painting with watercolors
When I’ve mastered a song on the piano
The sound of a creek on a warm day
Making forts in orange groves with my friends
Knowing I have no where to be and nothing to do the next day
When I look in the mirror and think I’m beautiful in the morning
Baking
A really good kiss
Hugging for long periods of time
Writing letters to friends
The first cup of coffee in the morning
When it rains, and the smell of dirt roads afterward
Navel Oranges
Cats, when they hold onto your finger and nip at it
The way candle flames dance in the wind
Lemonade during summer
A cold pool
The satisfaction of finishing a book
When I think about everything I have accomplished
New journals
When I’m first falling in love, being obsessed with knowing every detail about the person
Seeing kids play together, making up stories
Doing something outrageously adventurous
Doing what feels right, supporting what feels right
Getting and giving gifts
Christmas – the food, the weather, the friends and family
Sitting by warm fires with my dog, feeling the heat lick at my skin
Camping with my family
Taking hikes in the mountains and seeing new things
Standing in front of the ocean and feeling the breeze catch my hair
When I’m alone and the song I’m making up flows perfectly
Getting out of the shower and all my makeup came off
Fantasizing about traveling the world
When inspiration hits and I do ten projects in one day
When my room is clean and organized
Seeing old happy couples doing simple things together
Watching babies laugh
Fridays
When I feel how much someone cares about me
Learning something interesting
Getting good grades
A good cup of tea
Christmas music
Looking at nature
Loving people
Watching people in big cities go through their day
Looking put together
Organizing messy places
Cleaning something that was really dirty
When I can take care of myself
Seeing happy families
Watching dads spend time with their kids
When someone lets you into their life
Caramels
Outfits that remind me  of why I get dressed in the morning
New jars of peanut butter that’s smooth at the top
Smiling so wide my cheeks hurt, laughing so hard that my ribs ache
Watching people do what they’re passionate about
Making playlists
Wrapping myself in warm fuzzy blankets on cold days
Doing what scares me, what makes me uncomfortable
Being so passionate, loving something so deeply that it never fades
Dark chocolate with sea salt
Attractive people
New bras
When someone understands me
When someone is genuine

Complaining

Athiesm, Athiest, beautiful, Beauty, Blame, Failure, fuck you, Future, god, Her, Hope, Humanist, Jealousy, Journal, Love, Memories, New, no trust, Personal, Religion, school, science

This last week has been hard.

I fell down a hill and ended up hitting my house. My whole body is sore.

I lost 10 points in PE because I couldn’t run the mile – my leg was too beat up, I hardly made it through the day walking between classes.

Also during PE: I ended up on a team with the two athletic girls (one of whom is in AP Lang with me —  let’s just say I embarrassed myself. My hair band broke, and my hair is at this really ugly length, it’s not quite above the shoulder, but it’s not really below it.. So, I was messing with my hair instead of trying to play badminton. I’m pretty sure they don’t like me now. Pretty sure I lost the game for us.

After PE, I had a physics test. Completely forgot how to solve one of the equations, even though I had studied an extra hour of unrequired materials in preparation two nights before. Of COURSE I forgot. The teacher gave me this look of disappointment, mixed with something related to anger and simply said “you knew this was going to be on the test.” and he was right. but I had also studied. I was understanding it. But then the test came and I was already having a bad day and the next thing I knew, I was out of his class and trying my absolute best to not cry at school. I can’t be the girl who cries at school again…

I’ve made a point to not talk about my family issues at school, or about anything negative that would set me apart. I don’t want anyone at school to know my past or present grievances.

But I still had a panic attack at school and hid in the bathroom stall, trying to control my breathing — those bathrooms seriously need loud fans or music because you can hear EVERYTHING that is going on in the next stall over. Seriously.

To top it off, we had vocal auditions that afternoon. Imagine singing, after having been so worked up, you had to stop yourself from crying.

The group did vocal warm ups together, and I’m perfectly comfortable singing in a group, but solos and I do not mix (at least not yet). And so when they asked me to do a solo part in the warm up, I nearly puked. I felt something lurch up from in my stomach, and lost my breath. Anxiety is great.

Then, that night was when I found out I had lice.

It was a wonderful day.

My sister is leaving for europe in four days.. She’ll be gone for a month. I’ve never been apart from her for that long. But she’s kinda pissed at me right now, and I hope things get better between her and I before she gets back..

She’s going to be gone for my birthday.. I’m turning seventeen in a month and two days.

Everything has me feeling so defeated. I don’t feel like I can cry anymore. I don’t feel like I can express my emotions without being judged. It hasn’t stopped me, but it makes me hesitant.

I want to feel pretty again. I haven’t felt pretty since I cut my hair. not really.. I’ll have moments of feeling attractive, but I don’t look in the mirror and think I’m beautiful. I would like to think that I’m pretty without my long hair, but I don’t think I believe that.

I feel so sick. Between waiting for the cast list to go up and my physics grade to go on Aeries, I really am not sure how I’m going to cope with all this stress.

Oh, and I decided to post this on facebook:

I wish I could have read this post early on, after my parents divorce.

I wish that people hadn’t excused what happened in our house as “God’s will” or even said that it was “for the better” — no. Definitely not.

Being mentally abused was not good, it hasn’t made me a better person in ways that I couldn’t have grown without it. I loath when I am told that it was a good learning experience or even that I am a better person because of it.

No. Abuse didn’t make me a better person, it’s stifled me in many ways emotionally and socially – and I would never tell another person that it was a positive thing if I learned that it had happened to them.

PTSD hasn’t made me a better person – I’ve become more understanding, yes, but that isn’t to say that it wouldn’t have happened without it. I have been told that it will allow me to walk a path of individuality because of I have it — while that may be true, the panic attacks that come with PTSD do not make me a better person. They hurt me. They stop me from performing as a healthy human being in social situations – that happened just today at school.

It’s okay for bad things to happen to us, and the “band-aid” idea that the bad things happen for a reason does more damage than good to a person who is in pain. Allow us to grieve, allow for our pain to show in ways that may be socially looked down on – crying, not smiling in public, or even just not looking happy 100% of the time – those things are okay. Being unhappy isn’t bad – it’s healthy if you’ve experienced something traumatic.

A lady who I used to know from church decided to comment on it. Mind you, I’m not friends with her on facebook. But this is what she said:

“I doubt God wants people to suffer. However, he can help you recover and use your experiences for good if you allow him to.”

My response: ” It wasn’t my intention to communicate that God was purposefully allowing people to be in pain – I was simply trying to say that when people pass off horrific events (such as car accidents and domestic violence) as “gods purpose” it can be a destructive mindset for those who are in pain. What we need is to be loved and accepted for where we are in life, and if where we are isn’t a happy place – then show compassion, acceptance and love us through our pain. If there is a god, I don’t believe he would be mean-spirited or “out to get people” – want to make sure I’m clear on that”

Her retort: “You KNOW there is a god. I understand where you’re coming from and I appreciate you shedding some light on how to best love those who are in pain.”

Oh wait. Sorry Mrs. Russell.. Sorry that I didn’t know what I believed and that I had to ask you.

But I didn’t ask.

And for the record, I don’t “KNOW” there is a god, so cool your tits. No one knows if there are any deities, or if there aren’t. So. Just. Chill.

Asking for It.

anti feminism, Awareness, beautiful, Beauty, Blame, equality, Failure, feminism, fuck you, Her, home, Journal, no trust, Personal, sexual harassment, stalker, Street Harassment

Adult men and teenage boys should stop following women on the street. Men should stop making unsolicited comments on women’s bodies. They should humanize themselves and the women they are doing these things to.

Today, the 8th of October 2016, a grown man followed me in his SUV. He consciously made the decision to follow a young girl, by removing his parked car from a parking lot to driving alongside her at a walking pace. This man, whoever he is, watched me walking and thought, “I should get her in my car”. I can’t allow myself to imagine what would have happened to me if he had gotten me inside of his SUV.

All this happened on the street I live on. He targeted me not even a block from my home. As I was walking, I realized I couldn’t go home – I couldn’t give him such precious information.

This was the second time a man followed me while in a car. This was the fourth time a man I was unfamiliar with has made an unsolicited comment about my body while in public. All of these things have happened this year. I am only sixteen years old. How much worse will this get as I get older?

It is disgusting that grown men can freely gawk at underage girls and have virtually no punishment.

In more than one way, I have been fortunate. I have only had these experiences during daylight. I have always been in moderately public places, and they have never used force or violence towards me. But those things have happened to other women, and I wouldn’t doubt that the men who have harassed me are capable of sexually assaulting, kidnapping, or raping their victims.

I am also fortunate that the police made no comment on my attire – they didn’t slut shame me for wearing a crop top, a short skirt, and wedges. They are taking my case seriously, despite the fact that they could get away with a simple “she was asking for it”. In fact, the two officers were very receptive and gave me a lot of comfort after the incident.

“Hey you!”
I turned. A man, in a car? Okay. Continued walking, crossed the street. Don’t acknowledge him, hopefully he’ll go away. Walking, I heard a car come up behind me. Is it him? It’s not him, don’t worry. This wouldn’t happen to you again. This stuff only happens like, once.. Right? The car came up from behind, it slowed down, approaching me. Nearly stopping, it crawled to a walking pace.”Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be walking,” he said “let me give you a ride.”
“It’s alright,” I said, “I don’t need a ride, thank you,” I looked directly in his eyes as I said the last bit.
He continued to follow me. Hoping he couldn’t see how nervous he made me, I refrained from wiping the sweat off my brow. Why isn’t he going away? I want him to go away.
“You really are pretty,” my chest tightened. I couldn’t breathe.
“Come on, let me give you a ride,”
Why? So you can rape me? He sped away, turning around just a little ways ahead of me. He stopped. Why did he stop? Is he waiting for me? Is he going to try to run me over? Is he going to get out of his car and try to take me? His car started to move again. I let out an audible sigh. Coming closer to me, I figured he would just drive away. Of course he didn’t. Approaching me again, he rolled down his window, “Hey pretty girl,” he waited for a response. I gave none.
“Okay, fine, be that way.” He was angry. Sped away.

I rushed home, tripping over my wedges, I nearly sprained my ankle. I just wanted to be safe. Never had I felt so alarmed when I could see home – my safe zone.

I made it inside, sat down in the sofa and looked at my door. A noise outside startled me. is it him? No. There were children’s voices. I was safe. But I couldn’t stop staring at the door. I got up to lock it, then proceeded to lock myself in the bathroom and look up harassment on my phone.

The Beginning and The End

Beauty, dads, Domestic Violence, Family, fathers, feminism, forgotten, fuck you, Future, home, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Loving Life, Memories, Personal

My life as I know it today started like this:

My mom was painting our living room, furniture was covered in plastic, windows were open to air the house out.Cross-legged on a desk, I sat nearby as my mom lathered the wall in a neutral base. The dynamic in our house had been different recently, I couldn’t pinpoint it then but I knew something was off.. At that moment, my mom broke some news to me. She told me something that would alter the course of my life, she told me something that I now know would change me in a multitude of ways. She told me we were going to be leaving my dad.

I sat there, at first worried, then I realized all the possibilities leaving him would offer me. I could finally be myself. I remember sitting there on top of my desk and thinking “I can finally be an atheist, I can finally watch glee, I can finally enjoy the things I like without feeling guilty”. I recall anticipating my parent’s divorce, and when I told my eldest sister this, she agreed, saying she felt the same way. We were excited for them to split, neither of us had ever been satisfied with the life we led when they were together. Little did I know, it would start the next chapter of my life – one of difficulties, of neglect, where I could discover who I was.

Poetry

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Sweet voices, little voices

they wander in the garden.

Saying words that mean so little –

Saying words that mean so much.

Their words traverse through the garden,

they wander aimlessly.

The little voices have little feet

that will carry their bodies far.

My Perfect Partner

Athiest, beautiful, Beauty, bisexual, Domestic Violence, equality, Family, feminism, Future, Hope, Humanist, Jealousy, Journal, Love, Loving Life, Memories, Partner, Peace, Perfect, Personal, Religion, Small Things, Smiling

My perfect partner.. They would be assertive, taller than me, about a year older than me, pretty fit or small, kiss really well, their occupation would be in a field of science, they would be a mathematical person with soft emotions, we would share the same taste in music and humor, they would be atheist or buddhist. Preferably would have brown or dark hair, would wear leather shoes (probably oxfords or sandals). They would play chess, read for leisure, cook occasionally. High libido, masculine but not necessarily male. They would love theatre like Shakespeare and have wanderlust. They would aspire to know everything they could, never stop learning. They would love foggy weather, as well as the rainy days. They would share my nerdy side, loving Lord of the Rings and Sherlock as much as me. They would understand that I have many emotional issues, including but not limited to PTSD, depression, anxiety, and binge eating. They would understand that sometimes I really just need to be left alone or have things that are just mine and don’t share. They would let me go through everything I need to – like dying/cutting my hair, losing or gaining weight, that sometimes I get jealous and I can’t help it. They wouldn’t mind me spam texting them when I feel like it, that I can over analyze things because of my past. They wouldn’t mind that I can overreact to things, that sometimes I need weeks or months to just cry. Sometimes I can’t sleep. They would understand that I have a really difficult time loving people, that I have a really difficult time trusting something that isn’t fantasy or an animal. They would understand that I am a person who fluctuates in everything: emotions, weight, ideas. I’m constantly changing and don’t like settling. They would understand that I have a very hard time trusting men specifically, that I have a lot of triggers, that when I love I love fully and will commit like nothing else in the entire world because they are mine and they understand me. They would need to be passionate and caring, interesting but not a douche, kind but not delusionally so. They would never leave me. They would be really sexual, enjoy the mystery of large cities and live in one with me. Their last name wouldn’t start with an S because I don’t want my initials to be ASS (which sucks because I have a tendency to attract and be attracted to people with surnames that begin with S). They would be down for adventure at any hour. They wouldn’t let me get stuck in my ruts where I forget what I love..

Most importantly, I want to be attracted to them in the way that I fall in love instantly. The kind that makes me crazy, the kind that I can’t sleep over. Where I yearn to know everything about them and once I know that, I want to learn more.

They would be feminist, an ally or part of the LGBTQ community, they wouldn’t support anything anti-LGBT, they would understand the importance of spreading the knowledge of domestic violence. They would love me as much as I love them and I wouldn’t doubt it. They would like small dogs and cats, enjoy poetry and a cup of tea. They would own professional clothing – as a male they would wear a navy suit, as a woman a pencil skirt and blazer.. They would hold my hand when we were shopping, they would hug me often.. I would never doubt them.

This person makes me believe in love. They make me warm and happy inside.

Ronnie

beautiful, Beauty, Blame, Domestic Violence, Family, feminism, fuck you, Her, Hope, Journal, Love, Memories, Peace, Personal, Small Things, Smiling

There are two things wrong today.. I’ll start with the one that won’t matter in the distant future, and follow with the one that is more important.

I got a bad haircut. Well.. actually. There’s more to it than just that. I cut my own hair and wildy missed the mark. I fucked up bad. So I went to a local salon and they fixed it. The problem is – I hate what they did. I liked it when I left the salon. It was new. It was short. It was sassy and I was channeling my inner Khloe Kardashian. But then I got home and I showered, and I got out of the tub and looked in the mirror. It was different. The buzz I’d gotten was gone and I was left with a huge mistake that won’t grow back for a good two years probably. It’s fuzzy and huge, I can’t keep it down. I can’t curl it. I can’t straighten it. I can’t even take good selfies with it… I honestly want to get a pixie cut and forget this ever happened. I want to cry. It all happened because today has been the worst, though. Today was my last full day with my dog, Ronnie.

So, now we come to the real issue. My companion, best friend, guide, loyal pet, one true love, and my self-proclaimed bae who has been with me through all my struggles is getting a new home tomorrow. We’re driving to the Central Valley for my Grandpa’s 89th birthday party at his retirement home, and afterward we’re leaving Ronnie at my grandparents house so they can take her to her new home. It kills me. I don’t want to give her up and I really don’t want to leave her at my grandparents where they treated her so poorly.

She’s going to live with people she’s never met..

I wish I could tell them everything about her.. How she whines about everything, how she will paw at my toes when she’s bored, how she plays with my toes under the blankets when she’s playful, she climbs into bathtubs frequently even though she knows she’s too small to get out on her own, she begs constantly, she ignores her commands even though she had an amazing german trainer, she was abused by many men and now doesn’t trust any of them (especially the ones with facial hair or that wear hats), she snuggles me when I  tell her I love her, how she shoves her tiny wet nose into my knee cap when I blow into her ears because she knows it annoys me. How she peed on my floor the first time I met her and we still kept her because she so frickin adorable that you can’t say no to her little brown eyes and wagging tail (that has been renamed her “Happy Meter”). The way she wails when we put her in her kennel and how it killed us so much, we had to renamed it to her “transporter” for our own piece of mind (it was an ongoing joke that we never let go of). She endured two tweens dressing her up in build-a-bear clothes for four years, the constant changing of her name because it never stopped evolving (Ribbon, Freda, Reesta Skeet Doxin, Pooch, Ribs, Squirt, Reenie, Bibbon, Ronnie, Ronald, Ron, and countless others I’m failing to remember), She was a pop star, a whore, a model and a thousand unimaginable things that two tweens shouldn’t have been make-believing. She had a Dogster page, a youtube channel, a facebook page, a language, many friends (including: Connie, Ginger, Shady, Brendel, Tig, Nala, Dakota, and others), and particularly loved my friend Katie for some reason.

My sister and I got her for Christmas of ’08, she had a big red ribbon around her neck and we spent the rest of the day lounging by the fire with her in a little tan doggie bed. From that day on, she was my baby. She slept in my bed, I bathed her, I fed her scraps secretly, didn’t mind when her breath smelled or when she whimpered, she was mine. I loved her dearly. I remember when we got her name tag, it felt so official having her. I never thought that there would be a day where I would have to give her away, I figured we would have her until she passed away.. But things don’t work out as planned, and now we are having to give her to people who are practically strangers.

I love Ronnie with every fiber of my being, I love every annoying habit she has, I love our relationship and the trust between us. She is my fur baby and I feel like I’m giving away my child.. I’ve had her for eight years and I never thought it would end this way.

Fake Faced Cunt

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So I might have mentioned that I was going on a school trip to San Francisco, and if I didn’t, well.. My bad.

But I went. It was my second time there and it was really fun.

But The Little Cunt-Faced Bitch also was there. She and I had a few tense moments. I really do not like her, and I’ve tried to sort out why that is.. The best conclusion that I have made is explained best in this message I sent to Cadence about her.

“I’m not trying to convince you that you shouldn’t like her, but I am trying to help you understand why I don’t. She seems fake to me. I find her repulsive because she seems very shallow and like a people pleaser – which is annoying because I don’t dance around the truth, I don’t hide from what I know is true or what I witness. When I see signs that someone isn’t healthy for me, I get out. And I warned her about Caleb – how he gave me bad vibes – and she continued to date him until it bit her in the ass and even then, she made it sound so negative that I didn’t like him. Like, GIRL. I was trying to help you because I could tell he was an ass wipe. But nooooo – then I was just a bitchy girl sticking my nose in her business. When in reality, I was just being the independent and open person that I am and voicing my opinions because I don’t DANCE AROUND WHAT I SEE. Also, she uses guys to get confidence – for instance you, Thierry, Toby, and random dudes who she meets on the street (which I witnessed at least twice on our trip). I find that trait frustrating because its dependency. I fucking hate dependent people. So yeah. Those are some reasons why I don’t like her. She seems fake and she uses people.”

Copy and pasted, exactly as I sent to him.

So yeah, she got a septum ring, which I’m the only person at my school who wears one, and it’s a big deal that I did. So I felt like it was really fake of her to wear one when she doesn’t understand the meaning behind why people do. The image it creates, it’s not supposed to loosely mean powerful or anything like that… It’s feminism for some, it’s empowerment, it’s being LGBTQ or an ally…. I felt like she was degrading and making the septum ring worthless and stripping it of it’s meaning by wearing one.

She’s a straight, white, christian girl who lives in a home that’s VERY well off… I mean, they take trips all the time and get new clothes, her parents are together. She has an allowance. She has it a whole fucking lot easier than most people. That’s why I scoffed at her, called her fake (and also a bitch..) to her fake ass face.

She doesn’t get it, I resent her. I hate her.

If anyone reading this would like to give their two cents, offer a possible explanation of why I feel the way I do about her, that’d be nice.

You’ll Be Back, Sweetie.

Beauty, fuck you, Hamilton, Her, Journal, Loving Life, no trust, Personal, Small Things, Smiling

I’m determined to get my shit together by tomorrow, if only to prove to Ex #2 that I’m better off without his flaky white ass.

I’ve been down in the dumps for too long now – It’s time to rise back up like the glorious diva I’ve been inside this whole time.

He has taken way too much pride in how well he has gotten over our relationship. Well, tomorrow he can suck it – I know he’ll be back, guys always come back to me. It’s true, and I take pride in it.

And even if he doesn’t, I don’t give a single fuck because I’m better than him. Plus he knows I’m a crazy ass bitch, he won’t fuck with me again..

And if he does, well, let’s just say he’ll learn a heavy lesson.

I knew when I started dating him that he was below me – But I did it because I was lonely. Well, I had my fun with him, let him think he had the upper hand when he broke up with me. But the thing is, now he is just a creepy, fidgety, seventeen year old with as many moles as my Nana..

Sooo – he’s just out a hot-ass girlfriend and I’m back up to being single and worth more now that I’m not being held down by a dude who has no aspirations and nasty parents who are emotionally fucked up.

So – in the end, I still win. I’m still intelligent, hot, and a no-nonsense kinda girl.

Kiss my ass, Cadence. Flirt with thirteen year-old girls, go on. Have feelings for a girl who is only playing with your heartstrings. I know when you see what everyone else does about Megan, you’ll miss me. The hot chick with DDD’s who gave you blow jobs and listened to you when your parents told you to fuck off.. Don’t forget that I made you cake. And dealt with your problems for you..

Sorry Cadie – I’m way better off without you or your condescending ways.

I think people tend to forget that I’m worth more single, plus I have way more fun.

You say
The price of my love’s not a price that you’re willing to pay
You cry
In your tea which you hurl in the sea when you see me go by
Why so sad?
Remember we made an arrangement when you went away
Now you’re making me mad
Remember, despite our estrangement, I’m your man
You’ll be back, soon you’ll see
You’ll remember you belong to me
You’ll be back, time will tell
You’ll remember that I served you well
Oceans rise, empires fall
We have seen each other through it all
And when push comes to shove
I will send a fully armed battalion to remind you of my love!

You say our love is draining and you can’t go on
You’ll be the one complaining when I am gone…
And no, don’t change the subject
Cuz you’re my favorite subject
My sweet, submissive subject
My loyal, royal subject
Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever…

You’ll be back like before
I will fight the fight and win the war
For your love, for your praise
And I’ll love you till my dying days
When you’re gone, I’ll go mad
So don’t throw away this thing we had
Cuz when push comes to shove
I will kill your friends and family to remind you of my love