This isn’t about you at all, so don’t worry about reading this. No seriously, I’m not pulling any tricks or whatever. This isn’t a part of a game either. I’m just particularly ranty at the moment about ~~~something incredibly vague~~~ and I don’t have anyone to talk to about it because everyone is asleep so I hide my expletives and colourful words underneath a ReadMore to spare you the details.
Kay?
Kay.
GOD FUCKING DAMMIT WHY WON’T YOU JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP PLEASE I SWEAR
At this point you have grown INCESSANT. REPUGNANT. MONOTONOUS AND REPETITIVE.
I’ve been there through a shit ton alongside you and I’ve slowly seen you LOSE your identity. It has been all but stolen. RAPED.
I’m not one to just throw that word around, and I generally detest the idea of freely using that term. I stand by it here, however. Sitting back in fear, denying this outcome until the idea of short term gain trumped the idea of long term mental abuse. Now it’s what you know and come to expect. The thought changed you, just like everyone told you it would.
Who would’ve thought that you didn’t care to listen?
I cared. And for some reason my cold vestige of a heart remains adamant on holding onto that feeble idea that things will get better over time.
Sadly, I’m fearing more and more every day that this is going to be a permanent change.
After compiling the stories and experiencing these events firsthand and vicariously through others– others who you might have noticed started to drift away from you over time, I can’t help but see the error in my thoughts that everything was going to be okay.
Nothing has been okay, actually.
It’s gone. It’s over.
And hopefully I don’t have to be around to clean up the ashes, but alas, the entire gang still broke up.
Every last one of them.
Nothing has changed. Life moves on.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.
I’m sorry that I still feel that I could have stopped this.
I’m sorry that I couldn’t convince you.
I’m sorry that I still feel that I’ve failed you.
Everyone.
I wish you were all still here.