May 14, 2004 - 1:00 a.m.
Dear Boy,
i know that i should have said this before, but i was too busy trying not to cry. You were so sweet sometimes that you fooled me into believing that you were actually like that. You drove through rush hour traffic to bring me the soup you made when i was sick, you picked me up from my prom with roses, strawberries and the keys to a motel room. You even cooked my parents dinner for their anniversary. Somehow you always seemed to give me just enough to keep me thinking you could be someone you weren't. I know, i was selfish for expecting you to be nice most of the time. I was selfish for being lonely when you were there and high-maintenance for expecting you to realize how great i am. I was actually getting used to buying your cat's food and cleaning your bathroom, but I can understand your frustration with someone who is able to have a conversation about something other than the last time they got drunk or the time before that. It must be hard for you to date real people, you know, the kind with feelings, but I hope your new girlfriend, the mannequin, will like your teflon-pan-like demeanor and that one day she will forgive me and stop telling everyone that I ate her cupcake. It's been two years, so maybe one day soon she'll find it in her heart to get the fuck over it. oh, and smiling would greatly improve the impression she makes on people (at present i'm sure she finds it quite painful). I know that we work together, but really, just because we see eachother every day doesn't mean we have to speak to one another. i don't trust you, your friends are all hypocrites and you should definitely ditch the underwear with the holes in it and stop bragging about all the old dykes who hit on you.
love,
shayne
