and all that horseshit about the petitions
and all that crap about the articles
in the brochure and then there was all that talk
about the birthday, and how what's-his-face
screwed you over when it came to the bake sale,
and, in all seriousness, I hardly know
what to say. Tina, you're a terrible person.
I've spent years justifying your insecurities
and your violent displays of power, but, listen, I've
grown up, man, I'm not that kid I used to be. There's
no way I'm going to change the program at this point.
I know it's killing you, but I'm not changing the
backdrop or the postcards. You can have the stuff
in the fridge and you're welcome to remove all
of the samples you provided, but, beyond that,
it's over. No more late nights at the lake, no more
Sunday gifts and calls from the highway. I'm not going
to remove the tags anymore or spray the apartment.
As far as I know, everyone else feels
the same way. You can ask, but I don't know.
Whatever. Whatever. You say you have my best interests
in heart, but the a evidence is a touch bleaker
than that. I don't know. I don't know anymore. It's just
lonely now is all I'm saying. Jesus, Tina, try to step
outside of yourself for a moment or two! You've
got to make changes! You've got to give up the Nazi shit.
You've got to change your hairstyle. You've got to move
on Tina. You dragging us down like a dead clown! It's
time to let childish things go! Grow a fucking pair!
