(via figuremeout)
Immature.
Yeah, okay. I am immature. I am a rebel. I don’t listen to logic. I never listen to reason. I don’t care what people think. I don’t care what the rules are. I’m a little kid. I’m a little baby. But you know what? I don’t fucking care. Because I’m on a shitload of hormones and my period is this week, so you are just unlucky that I am deciding to be immature with you. Hell, I’m so angry I’ve ranted 3 times already.
I’d like to think of myself as calm and cool. But I’m not. I am really just the opposite. Calm and cool is my best friend. If you know us, I am almost always the exact opposite. I am emotional and hot-headed. Erratic and insane. Explosive and extreme. I cry at action movies. I am extremely happy at a single ray of sunshine. I get so angry I kill.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not stuck in this high school adolescence by any means. I’ve grown up, I know I have. People say your childhood ends the day your family breaks up. Mine broke up a decade ago. And guess what? Despite my anger streak and my irrational fits, I am more mature than you. I have grown up more than you. Because I know my flaws. My insecurities. My terrible traits. And I don’t hide them. I know who I am, I never try to be anything else. I never try to be fake.
But, I can’t say the same for you.
You’re not only fake, you refuse to accept your ridiculous jealousy and change. Hate to admit it, but I’m probably more jealous than anybody I know. I know that, but I’m trying to fix it. I don’t know about you, but it sounds like you’re insecure out of your mind. Insecure I was first. Insecure I am that person he always wanted, but never got? You must wonder what would happen if I wanted to home wreck. Not confident you’d win? Then how is that my fault. Those are your flaws staring you in the face and you blame me.
Of course, I don’t actually know what you’re thinking because you won’t confront me yourself. You pretend to play nice. You pretend to be innocent. You’re the hurt lamb and I’m the deadly lion. I have no problem with you. Scratch that. I had no problem with you, only you had a problem with me. You hate me? You could have hid it better and not force me out of my good friend’s life. Now, I don’t like you. And my approval is not something you can ever win back - if you even had it at all.
You wanted to be the lamb. So I’ll be that lion. I’ll be the bitch.
You’re fat and fucking ugly. You have a fake ass personality and lie through your teeth. You look like a monkey. You’re unproportional and dull. You’re probably bad in bed, but he’ll never know that. You’re not sweet. And you’re not cute. You’re not smart and you’re not athletic. You lack talent. You lack face. You lack so much, you’re like a different race.
So it’s no wonder you’re insecure.
Go fuck yourself.