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A Bottle of Polonium with Your Name On It! -- Amazon Prime, Next Sunset Delivery!

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Speaking of changing hope I've got a few hopes for you. I hope you stay numbed and dumped. I hope you wake up every morning and breathe a blameless narrative of your life. I hope you never find the root cause of your symptoms. I hope you're better at lying to yourself than you are at lying to everyone else. I hope you find a batch of new suckers and trick them into being your monsters and handholders. I hope you talk shit on us to the internet. I hope you never get better. I hope you stay medicated until the day you die. I hope a trail of vomit and blood follows you everywhere in life. I hope you get paranoid and stay inside all summer. You came here with empty hands and left with enemies by the dozen. I hope whatever poor sucker lets their head fall into your gullet knows a good shrink, because you're not one. I'm not insane and I know it. I hope I stay angry. Enjoy canine cancer.

Jesus, I personally just hope you go away. I hope you try to light the building on fire on the way out. I hope everyone calls you a psycho for it. I hope all the silly shit you say, you actually meant. No, these aren't hopes, just angry little chunks of vindication. I was wrong about you - maybe you actually cared about these people, but business comes first, you had to shop for a Villain. I was happy being the stony stooge, all crocodile Kleenex, gullible, wordless, all putting your concerns first. It's totally reasonable for you to yell at me in front of everyone I know for a comment in a facebook message, that's fine, I'll take that. Maybe I really was wrong, it doesn't hurt to try new perspectives. And what am I going to do, change you? When the only true words I know are hello fellow traveler? The only reason it matters that I'm suicidal is because it hurts your feelings. You never kept my secrets secret and you would lie to me as soon as say hello, but that didn't matter. I still cared about what you said, and I still wanted you to get better. To get real. But you never really figured out how to control me. A B- sidekick, I was your student transferred into your monster. If I couldn't be a convincing lackey, then I must be your antagonist, I must be the oppressive front of every force you've ever read about, a sociopath and a voyeur and half a
retard too.

All I wanted was a smart friend, but you wanted something else. Stage directions called for a lackey, a lover, a rival, and probably a poor tragic soul before long. You make people into your toys and then you get bored of them. You play mindgames and forget the rules. You'll ask me to change my mind as easily as to change my mind. I think you're a fickle, unctuous, clever, kiddo ready to take your damage and turn it justified, deleterious. I think you're a risk to my sanity, and I think you're a threat to yourself. I hope you don't kill yourself, and I don't think you will. You'll do something worse, and I hope it's on film.
KY, 42069

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