Honestly. Again? Are you really that uncreative? You're going to use the same concept it what mayaswell be the same story and call yourself a writer? Do you show that ratty notebook to everyone? "Oh, look at me, I write stories, I'm smart and creative!" Psh. Fuck you. You don't get it. That's not how it works. Writing is not words. Writing is not your pathetic excuse for an epic adventure-romance that you have childish fantasies of one day turning into the next 'Final Fantasy.' Because it's not gonna happen.

Maybe I'm just selfish. Maybe it pisses me off that the one thing I can actually think I'm good at, you claim to have skills with. Maybe it pisses me off that the girl next to me must be thinking exactly the same thing I am, thinking it's stupid and that you should get some talent. But maybe its just me. I really don't have any way of knowing what she's thinking, so that's that. Her opinions are her own.

But what? What's that? Suddenly, it's like a gust of wind as I open an invisible door which I didn't want to open. Your carefree smile suddenly turns upside down and in a rage, you blast me with some self-centered cliché anti-stereotyping line. I really don't care. No, really, I could care less about you and your worthless fucking opinion.

Wanna know the truth? I FUCKING HATE YOU. I do not like you, not one bit. I hang out with you, but the truth is I'm only using you. I honestly don't like you at all! Ha! Ha ha! Funny, funny isn't it. Funny how that works. I don't know what I'm using you for yet, but I'll keep you handy until I find out. When I'm done, I'll drop you like a hot potato and find some new friends.

Because that's what I do.

I'm clever like that, I'm sly like that, I'm mean like that, I'm evil like that, I'm smart like that, I'm fucked up like that. Y'know? "Y'know?" I fucking hate that phrase because it's always coming from your spazzing lips. Turrets Syndrom my ass, you're fucking insane! I can't STAND you and your irregular fucking speech patterns, I swear to god, I wanna slice your tongue, and then when you twitch your fucking eye I wanna scoop it out and choke you with it.

God.

But luckily, I don't have time to express this because your head is buried in your arms (Pussy.) and the girl next to me is just reaffirming my thought that she might be growing a bit impatient with you because she's blasting you. Cussing you out. Owning you. Salting you. Verbally raping you. And you're just staring with your beady eyes and beat red face, unsure about what to do with your stupid fucking cosplay accessory around your neck which I would give anything to pull and strangle you.

Yes, yes...I have finally come to realize that, I hate you.