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What happened to your car? Oh, I did that

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I lay on my bed wondering what would make you say things like that. 2 years we’ve been with each other and now you decide to let loose all the acrimony boiling inside you, instead of doing it one step at a time. A blackened tear (from the stupid, supposedly “Waterproof” mascara) streaks down my face as I recall all of your accusations. Yeah, I know that I’m annoying you when I cry. I know that after all this time that if we haven’t fixed our relationship by now that it would disintegrate, leaving nothing but rubble. Something that even duck tape wouldn’t be able to fix. If you hadn’t cheated on me with her last week, we might have been fine. But apparently things don’t go the way their planned. What ever happened to the days at the park, sitting under the old oak and never wanting to get up because the magic would end if we did? But we did get up, didn’t we? Maybe that’s where it all started. You didn’t want to let the magic end but a text from my mom made me leave you. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it is my fault. Maybe all the druggies, and alcoholics, and addicts, are my entire fault too. Because everything is so easy to be blamed on me isn’t it? So easy; blame is the only easy thing in this world. Black streaks have covered my face, making me look like a panda. Panda’s are endangered you know. I guess that’s my fault too. But you don’t care about the panda population that’s gone down in the last thousand years. Their species won’t survive past 2050. But you know that already. You know everything. You should also know that your red Italian sports car with the white stripes and leather interior, (Something that you loved more than me) has 79 scratches in the paint, 4 sliced tires, 1 shattered window, 8 baseball bat created dents, and I’ll drop off the partridge in a pear tree later. Nobody should ever think about cheating on me.



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