Something happened tonight that got me thinking...and probably over-thinking. My stomach is in knots, which is raising red-flags, and my instincts are screaming for me to pull back because I'm going to get hurt. I'm trying to ignore it, simply because I'm having these feelings because they are preconceived and based solely on how somebody other than my current partner has treated me. He has been nothing but caring and genuine...he's not the one who hurt me...
But it still hurts.
My Partner has a lot of female friends, which is totally cool, because I have more guy friends than girl friends. Not even a problem. I am, however, uncomfortable with the fact that he is spending the night at one of his "just friends" houses, tonight.
I trust him. He's never given me reason not to, but I am extremely uncomfortable with him staying over at another female's house. I know he would be upset if I were to spend the night with another man. That is exactly why I wouldn't sleep over at another man's house; I don't want him to be uncomfortable. It's something we're supposed to do, right? We're supposed to make sure we don't do anything that would cause them pain...?
Now, something else that bothers me about tonight is that he immediately went on the defensive when I told him that I was uncomfortable with the situation. "You gonna get pissed because I'm hanging out with a friend?" Didn't say I was mad. I said I was uncomfortable. I'll never, ever tell him who he can and cannot be friends with. He has a life separate from me, just as I have a life separate from him.
The problem I'm having, here, is not that I think he's going to cheat on me; the problem I'm having is that he got defensive when I expressed my discomfort, that he didn't ask my opinion (not permission) before he made the decision to stay with her, and that he is totally nonchalant about the whole thing. He doesn't seem to mind that it's causing me pain.
Most of this is just conjecture and emotional expression. However there are a few facts that I can't ignore, here:
He's told me that his ex-wife accused him of cheating.
He was Article 15'ed from the Army for alleged adultery.
He's staying with another female, tonight.
We haven't been intimate for almost 10 days.
We had a disagreement before he decided to go over to her house.
He's never given me reason not to trust him.
He's promised not to break my trust.
I'm not sure what to do. We've only been together for 3 weeks, but we're already living together. This is something I'm willing to work through, but I'm not going to budge on the fact that he is doing something that I am very weary about, something that is causing me near-physical pain, and he hasn't said a word to me since he left, nor does he seem to care that I don't like him being there. I'm trying not to work myself into a frenzy, because I'm going to need to approach this delicately. I do not want to fly off the handle and start tossing accusations at him as soon as he walks in the door, tomorrow morning.
I want to be able to talk this through, rationally, but I get the feeling that he's going to go on the defensive, again, and we're going to have a blow-out.
This is why I stayed single for so damn long...
Too much drama.
Friday, October 18, 2013
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
The One...with a side of Skepticism
I'm in love. It's awful, I know. The cynic, the anti-love, anti-commitment, sarcastic woman that my friends have come to know is In Love. Ugh. You know what, though? I'm still jaded, and I'm still a cynic; everything's just a bit more..."Shiny" now.
Ten Years ago, I would have kept my opinions to myself, so I didn't scare off My Life.
Eight years ago, I would have been google-eyed and tripping over myself to make sure My Man was happy.
Five years ago, I would have been too afraid to speak, because I didn't want Master to get angry.
Two years ago, I would have told The Bastard to fuck off.
Last year, I would have fucked It and walked...
Today, I'm happy because I think I've found the balance between bitter and optimistic, jaded and naive, trust and blindness. My Partner and I support each other. He's caring and kind, if not a bit egotistical, sometimes. He loves me for me, but he can be a bit self-centered, on occasion. He's got great stories, and he's got great One-Uppers, too. I'm not so blinded by the emotion that I don't see his faults. I don't love him any less because of them, either.
In the 11 years since I started becoming really interested in the opposite sex (loss of virginity will certainly spike that, won't it? sheesh!), I've gone through a lot of bullshit and heartache. I've blamed myself, when it definitely wasn't my fault. I've blamed the man when if most definitely was my fault. I've "grown up" (Yuck! Take it back! Take it back!) a lot, too. I no longer believe my man hangs the moon, but he damn well better hang his own laundry!
I understand that we're only human. We can't expect anything out of our Other (not Better) Half that we're not willing to do ourselves. If your lover doesn't meet your expectations, reconsider them. Are they over-the-top? Maybe, maybe not. Don't abandon your partner, though, just because they can't follow your expectations. That's your problem more than it is theirs. If it's a deal-breaker, HELP THEM.
My deal-breaker is volatile anger and drinking problems. I will not, absolutely refuse to be near anyone who can't hold their liquor. I won't stay with anybody who has the tendency to fly off the handle at the drop of a hat. I did it, once. For eight years! Nope. Not again. My Partner has anger problems.
I talk to him about it. I encourage him to let the little things go, and I can see that he's trying to keep his anger controlled. He does a great job, most of the time. When it flares, though, I walk away. I do not argue with him when he's looking for a fight. I do not put up with it, either. Once he's mellowed out, again, I talk to him about it, and how it makes me feel, and we work it out.
I think the best part about this relationship is how well we complement each other. He's excitable and I'm mellow. I'm grounded and he has his head in the clouds. He's playful and I'm serious. I'm a loner, and he loves a party. We're able to find an excellent balance, and I've never had so much fun with someone, doing absolutely nothing, in my life. We butt heads, sometimes, over little things (like driving; I don't trust anyone's driving, except my own), but we accept the fact that we're adults and we're different, and move on.
We've moved fast, going from dating for a week to living together. It's scary and amazing. I think he's The One, but I'm not going to marry him. I'm not going to marry anybody, ever again. I'm perfectly content with spending the rest of my life with someone without a piece of paper.
He's been married twice, before.
I don't know where he stands on getting married, again, but that's something we can talk about, later.
Ten Years ago, I would have kept my opinions to myself, so I didn't scare off My Life.
Eight years ago, I would have been google-eyed and tripping over myself to make sure My Man was happy.
Five years ago, I would have been too afraid to speak, because I didn't want Master to get angry.
Two years ago, I would have told The Bastard to fuck off.
Last year, I would have fucked It and walked...
Today, I'm happy because I think I've found the balance between bitter and optimistic, jaded and naive, trust and blindness. My Partner and I support each other. He's caring and kind, if not a bit egotistical, sometimes. He loves me for me, but he can be a bit self-centered, on occasion. He's got great stories, and he's got great One-Uppers, too. I'm not so blinded by the emotion that I don't see his faults. I don't love him any less because of them, either.
In the 11 years since I started becoming really interested in the opposite sex (loss of virginity will certainly spike that, won't it? sheesh!), I've gone through a lot of bullshit and heartache. I've blamed myself, when it definitely wasn't my fault. I've blamed the man when if most definitely was my fault. I've "grown up" (Yuck! Take it back! Take it back!) a lot, too. I no longer believe my man hangs the moon, but he damn well better hang his own laundry!
I understand that we're only human. We can't expect anything out of our Other (not Better) Half that we're not willing to do ourselves. If your lover doesn't meet your expectations, reconsider them. Are they over-the-top? Maybe, maybe not. Don't abandon your partner, though, just because they can't follow your expectations. That's your problem more than it is theirs. If it's a deal-breaker, HELP THEM.
My deal-breaker is volatile anger and drinking problems. I will not, absolutely refuse to be near anyone who can't hold their liquor. I won't stay with anybody who has the tendency to fly off the handle at the drop of a hat. I did it, once. For eight years! Nope. Not again. My Partner has anger problems.
I talk to him about it. I encourage him to let the little things go, and I can see that he's trying to keep his anger controlled. He does a great job, most of the time. When it flares, though, I walk away. I do not argue with him when he's looking for a fight. I do not put up with it, either. Once he's mellowed out, again, I talk to him about it, and how it makes me feel, and we work it out.
I think the best part about this relationship is how well we complement each other. He's excitable and I'm mellow. I'm grounded and he has his head in the clouds. He's playful and I'm serious. I'm a loner, and he loves a party. We're able to find an excellent balance, and I've never had so much fun with someone, doing absolutely nothing, in my life. We butt heads, sometimes, over little things (like driving; I don't trust anyone's driving, except my own), but we accept the fact that we're adults and we're different, and move on.
We've moved fast, going from dating for a week to living together. It's scary and amazing. I think he's The One, but I'm not going to marry him. I'm not going to marry anybody, ever again. I'm perfectly content with spending the rest of my life with someone without a piece of paper.
He's been married twice, before.
I don't know where he stands on getting married, again, but that's something we can talk about, later.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Religion
I was asked a question, recently, that I had a hard time answering: Are you religious? ... ... Uhh ... ...
If they had asked me if I believe in God, I would have said no. That's an easy question to answer, but am I religious? I honestly don't know how to answer that.
I was raised by Christian parents. I practiced Wicca in high school. I've been to church a hand full of times. I've read the Bible (Old and New Testament), the Koran, the Torah, and other religious texts. I've gotten a mild grip on most of the world's religions. I don't believe that there is a One God, to rule us all. I don't believe that one "being" could handle that much power, without becoming corrupt.
My parents never pushed religion down my throat. They had their own beliefs, they taught me about Jesus and why they were faithful, but they never said, "This is the only way you'll go to Heaven". They never told me that I had to go to church, but when I asked to go, they allowed it. I was able to find my own path, and I'm eternally grateful for that. In fact, although they called themselves Christian, they pretty much loathed Christians, as a whole. I remember my dad breaking the preacher's nose because he told me I was going to hell. I was 9-years-old, and terrified when I came home from Bible study. Dad was pissed. The church didn't allow me back in the door after that.
That was probably the first time I started to question the "truth" of the bible. Why, if Christianity is all about forgiveness, was I banned from going back? My dad said, simply, "That's just how some folks are." So, while my friends were going to Sunday School, I was learning about cars with my dad. We called it Bible study, though, just for a giggle. I miss my dad.
My parents were very religiously accepting. Most people know about Missionaries and slam the door in their faces, when they come knocking. My mom invited them inside, gave them a glass of sweet tea, or hot cocoa, and listened. She didn't kick them out, or make them feel worthless, she accepted them as if they were family. Then, she politely told them that, while their beliefs work for them, she didn't agree with them. She had been so nice to them, that very few every pushed. The just left, peacefully and smiling.
I guess that's kind of where I sit, in the religion debate. I don't think anybody is right or wrong. Everybody has something that works for them. If a book keeps a man from killing his wife, then so-be-it. If prayer makes a woman feel safe after being raped, then there truly is Power in Prayer. Do I believe that there is a man in the Cosmos, who makes everything better, who helps the needy and faithful, and damns those who don't believe in him? No. The God I learned about, when I was a child, isn't that petty, nor are the gods I've learned about since then.
I accept religion, as a whole. When I want something to happen, I'll conjure a Pagan "spell", say a chant, or pray. Some people have told me that I'm going to hell; I just smile and say, "I'll save you a seat". I don't like people who shove their beliefs onto other people. I don't appreciate churches who teach children to fear their deity, or they'll be burned for eternity. It seems that most churches focus on Fear instead of Respect. They're going about that all wrong, in my opinion.
Religion fascinates me. Everybody, from the Roman Empire, to the Celtic Druids, to the Ancient Egyptians, has had a god, or group of gods and goddesses, to pray to. The deities may have changed, the prayers might be different, but human nature hasn't. It's almost as if we need to think that someone, or some thing, has our back. When we've hit rock bottom, it's more comforting to think "God still loves me" rather than "I'm completely alone". I can accept that.
I'm not an Atheist. I don't get a kick out of discrediting the Bible, or any other texts. I accept that they believe. I accept that their beliefs help them in ways that I can't understand. I don't pout and throw a fit, like a toddler, when somebody says, "God loves you!" ... "Nuh-uh! He's not real!" ... That's just not me. Who am I to belittle someone's source of comfort and happiness? What gives me the right to tell anyone that they're wrong and I'm right? Most Atheists are hypocrites, just as most Christians, Catholics, Baptists, etc., are when they teach about forgiveness, yet don't forgive a little girl's father after he knocks their leader out.
What can I say? I believe that religion has it's place. I don't think that God is as "My way, or eternal damnation for you!" as most make him out to be. Honestly...if he's the all-knowing, all-doing, been-alive-forever, controls-all-the-things guy, don't you think he's moved beyond the petty bullshit, by now? ...
Am I religious? ...Meh, I guess so...
If they had asked me if I believe in God, I would have said no. That's an easy question to answer, but am I religious? I honestly don't know how to answer that.
I was raised by Christian parents. I practiced Wicca in high school. I've been to church a hand full of times. I've read the Bible (Old and New Testament), the Koran, the Torah, and other religious texts. I've gotten a mild grip on most of the world's religions. I don't believe that there is a One God, to rule us all. I don't believe that one "being" could handle that much power, without becoming corrupt.
My parents never pushed religion down my throat. They had their own beliefs, they taught me about Jesus and why they were faithful, but they never said, "This is the only way you'll go to Heaven". They never told me that I had to go to church, but when I asked to go, they allowed it. I was able to find my own path, and I'm eternally grateful for that. In fact, although they called themselves Christian, they pretty much loathed Christians, as a whole. I remember my dad breaking the preacher's nose because he told me I was going to hell. I was 9-years-old, and terrified when I came home from Bible study. Dad was pissed. The church didn't allow me back in the door after that.
That was probably the first time I started to question the "truth" of the bible. Why, if Christianity is all about forgiveness, was I banned from going back? My dad said, simply, "That's just how some folks are." So, while my friends were going to Sunday School, I was learning about cars with my dad. We called it Bible study, though, just for a giggle. I miss my dad.
My parents were very religiously accepting. Most people know about Missionaries and slam the door in their faces, when they come knocking. My mom invited them inside, gave them a glass of sweet tea, or hot cocoa, and listened. She didn't kick them out, or make them feel worthless, she accepted them as if they were family. Then, she politely told them that, while their beliefs work for them, she didn't agree with them. She had been so nice to them, that very few every pushed. The just left, peacefully and smiling.
I guess that's kind of where I sit, in the religion debate. I don't think anybody is right or wrong. Everybody has something that works for them. If a book keeps a man from killing his wife, then so-be-it. If prayer makes a woman feel safe after being raped, then there truly is Power in Prayer. Do I believe that there is a man in the Cosmos, who makes everything better, who helps the needy and faithful, and damns those who don't believe in him? No. The God I learned about, when I was a child, isn't that petty, nor are the gods I've learned about since then.
I accept religion, as a whole. When I want something to happen, I'll conjure a Pagan "spell", say a chant, or pray. Some people have told me that I'm going to hell; I just smile and say, "I'll save you a seat". I don't like people who shove their beliefs onto other people. I don't appreciate churches who teach children to fear their deity, or they'll be burned for eternity. It seems that most churches focus on Fear instead of Respect. They're going about that all wrong, in my opinion.
Religion fascinates me. Everybody, from the Roman Empire, to the Celtic Druids, to the Ancient Egyptians, has had a god, or group of gods and goddesses, to pray to. The deities may have changed, the prayers might be different, but human nature hasn't. It's almost as if we need to think that someone, or some thing, has our back. When we've hit rock bottom, it's more comforting to think "God still loves me" rather than "I'm completely alone". I can accept that.
I'm not an Atheist. I don't get a kick out of discrediting the Bible, or any other texts. I accept that they believe. I accept that their beliefs help them in ways that I can't understand. I don't pout and throw a fit, like a toddler, when somebody says, "God loves you!" ... "Nuh-uh! He's not real!" ... That's just not me. Who am I to belittle someone's source of comfort and happiness? What gives me the right to tell anyone that they're wrong and I'm right? Most Atheists are hypocrites, just as most Christians, Catholics, Baptists, etc., are when they teach about forgiveness, yet don't forgive a little girl's father after he knocks their leader out.
What can I say? I believe that religion has it's place. I don't think that God is as "My way, or eternal damnation for you!" as most make him out to be. Honestly...if he's the all-knowing, all-doing, been-alive-forever, controls-all-the-things guy, don't you think he's moved beyond the petty bullshit, by now? ...
Am I religious? ...Meh, I guess so...
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Whore to a Housewife
Baring my soul, here... I have friends that I could talk to about this, I'm sure, but they all have their own problems, so mine just seem trivial. Don't want to be a burden, so...I'm getting it all out of my system, here, before it eats me alive.
I talk a big game when it comes to dating. I'm always saying that I won't sleep with a guy on the first date, and that I want respect, blah blah blah. When it comes right down to it, though, that's a bold-face lie. I don't respect myself and I don't demand respect from men. This week, I've slept with 3 men. In my life, just shy of 30. And you just thought, "Wow, what a slut." Yeah, pretty much how I feel, too. Sex is attention. Unfortunately, it's been so long since I've gotten the "right" kind of attention from men that I'll take what I can get. I don't feel powerful or womanly...I feel dirty and disgusting. I feel like a whore.
I don't know why I felt the need to post this for the world to read...
These guys are great guys, but they'll never want to be with me. Especially now that I've slept with them. Weird how that works... Guys want women to fuck them, but when it comes to bringing someone home to Mommy, they want a virgin...or at least someone who will make them work for sex. That's not me. That's the person I want to be, but I'm just so afraid of being alone that I go along with whatever they want, so they won't leave me. Guess what? They leave me, anyway.
Bah. I guess I'm just feeling sorry for myself. I want to be wanted. I'm so unbelievably lonely and sad. It doesn't help that I'm so painfully shy and unsure of myself that when I do go on dates, I usually blow it. I'm socially awkward... Just like I was in high school. There was a time in my life, recently even, that I felt like I could do anything, talk to anyone, be myself around guys and they'd like me. (This was a time when I *wasn't single*.) That time flew right past me. I'm back to being the weird girl. I say the wrong things. I turn guys off, but not enough that they won't have an orgasm inside me; just enough that they won't call me the next day.
No, I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I'm just sad. I'm lonely. I feel...incomplete. Fuck if that isn't exactly how I was raised NOT to feel. "Never let a man complete you." Yeah, well, I guess I listened to that advice...I've got no man TO complete me, so I'm incomplete.
Last night, I went over to a man's house. I'm genuinely interested in him, but I doubt that he's going to want anything to do with me, now. We fucked. Yes, I had an orgasm. So did he. Afterwards, the only thing I could think of was how badly I wanted a shower. I wanted to cry. As it was, I did shed a couple tears, while he was out of the room. I stayed for a couple hours and half-ass watched a movie, then got out of there and let him sleep. He invited me to stay, but I couldn't do it. I needed to break down and guys don't like a crying woman. So, I cried on the drive home, and I cried when I got home, and I'm still crying.
I don't know when I changed, but I don't like this side of me. I don't like sleeping with guys to feel wanted and loved, only to end up feeling dirty and used. I don't like not being able to talk to my friends, or cry around them because nobody has seen me cry in years, and they don't know how to act, when I do. I want my best friend back. He'd let me cry. He wouldn't say a word; just hold me. I miss that, so much.
This is the real me. I'm vulnerable and weak. Hell, I can't even hold down a job. I fuck men to make them like me. I feel like I've been left behind. I'm not the tough girl that everyone thinks I am...that's a bullshit facade. That's what they wanted (or needed) to see, so that's what they see.
Yup. So that's that. I'm going to go scrub the whore off my skin and do some crying. Alone.
I talk a big game when it comes to dating. I'm always saying that I won't sleep with a guy on the first date, and that I want respect, blah blah blah. When it comes right down to it, though, that's a bold-face lie. I don't respect myself and I don't demand respect from men. This week, I've slept with 3 men. In my life, just shy of 30. And you just thought, "Wow, what a slut." Yeah, pretty much how I feel, too. Sex is attention. Unfortunately, it's been so long since I've gotten the "right" kind of attention from men that I'll take what I can get. I don't feel powerful or womanly...I feel dirty and disgusting. I feel like a whore.
I don't know why I felt the need to post this for the world to read...
These guys are great guys, but they'll never want to be with me. Especially now that I've slept with them. Weird how that works... Guys want women to fuck them, but when it comes to bringing someone home to Mommy, they want a virgin...or at least someone who will make them work for sex. That's not me. That's the person I want to be, but I'm just so afraid of being alone that I go along with whatever they want, so they won't leave me. Guess what? They leave me, anyway.
Bah. I guess I'm just feeling sorry for myself. I want to be wanted. I'm so unbelievably lonely and sad. It doesn't help that I'm so painfully shy and unsure of myself that when I do go on dates, I usually blow it. I'm socially awkward... Just like I was in high school. There was a time in my life, recently even, that I felt like I could do anything, talk to anyone, be myself around guys and they'd like me. (This was a time when I *wasn't single*.) That time flew right past me. I'm back to being the weird girl. I say the wrong things. I turn guys off, but not enough that they won't have an orgasm inside me; just enough that they won't call me the next day.
No, I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I'm just sad. I'm lonely. I feel...incomplete. Fuck if that isn't exactly how I was raised NOT to feel. "Never let a man complete you." Yeah, well, I guess I listened to that advice...I've got no man TO complete me, so I'm incomplete.
Last night, I went over to a man's house. I'm genuinely interested in him, but I doubt that he's going to want anything to do with me, now. We fucked. Yes, I had an orgasm. So did he. Afterwards, the only thing I could think of was how badly I wanted a shower. I wanted to cry. As it was, I did shed a couple tears, while he was out of the room. I stayed for a couple hours and half-ass watched a movie, then got out of there and let him sleep. He invited me to stay, but I couldn't do it. I needed to break down and guys don't like a crying woman. So, I cried on the drive home, and I cried when I got home, and I'm still crying.
I don't know when I changed, but I don't like this side of me. I don't like sleeping with guys to feel wanted and loved, only to end up feeling dirty and used. I don't like not being able to talk to my friends, or cry around them because nobody has seen me cry in years, and they don't know how to act, when I do. I want my best friend back. He'd let me cry. He wouldn't say a word; just hold me. I miss that, so much.
This is the real me. I'm vulnerable and weak. Hell, I can't even hold down a job. I fuck men to make them like me. I feel like I've been left behind. I'm not the tough girl that everyone thinks I am...that's a bullshit facade. That's what they wanted (or needed) to see, so that's what they see.
Yup. So that's that. I'm going to go scrub the whore off my skin and do some crying. Alone.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Embarrassing...?
Just because I feel like, I'm going to post something that will, without a doubt, make somebody squirm.
I'm a 26-year-old woman. I'm healthy. My reproductive system is healthy. Other than a few extra pounds, I have no health complaints. I smoke, and I know I shouldn't. I'm mentally stable, in that I'm not on any type of medication to "balance my mood."
I have a period. Regularly. Every 29 days, Aunt Flo, Mother Nature, the Red Tide, whatever you want to call it (I'm curious for responses, actually...) knocks on my door. For 4 days, the lining of my uterus leaves my body. It's not pretty, but it's *natural*.
I have cramps. I get salt cravings, then sugar cravings, then salt cravings, again. There's an ache, constant, dull and annoying in my lower back. Sometimes, I get diarrhea, sometimes I'm constipated; it varies month-to-month. I put on water-weight, and my jeans don't fit quite right, for those 96-100 hours. I'm a little moody, tho I try not to cry for no reason, or scream at anybody. Women who use their period as an excuse to be a bitch make me sick.
What I want to know is: why is that such a shocking thing? Why can't I talk about my period without somebody getting uncomfortable? Why should something natural, something that every healthy female from the age of 14 (or younger; 10, for me) to 50 (or more) has, or will have to, or has had to deal with, be a taboo subject? Why should I be embarrassed when I buy pads from the store? I'm not embarrassed to buy condoms, and guess where they go...?
Men aren't afraid to talk about their reproductive processes. (In great detail.) Why are we?
Monday, June 20, 2011
2 Days and Counting...
The nerves are settling in... In just over a two days, we are heading out on our road-trip to St Louis to meet the Boondock Saints and other very cool people. I am excited and nervous all at once! I can't wait to get there, but I'm worried that my agoraphobia is going to keep me in the hotel room once I see how many people are going to be there...MEEP! I've been pretty good, recently. Not one panic attack in the last 2 years (claps hands) but I have also avoided overly-crowded places, so...yeah... Getting a little scared.
Ai yai yai
Just a quick little rant:
Patrick, you are a jerk. You talk shit about everybody behind everybody's back. Don't you know by now that we are all in the same group of friends? Haven't you learned that everything you say will eventually be relayed back to the target of your shit-talking?
You're back in jail, now. Big surprise there. Whoever took over your phone seems to think that you hate me, that I'm a "fat, nasty cow" who "fucks everything in sight" and that you "can't stand" my "nasty ass." (Quoting from the texts he/she/it sent me.) Interesting. The last time you talked to me, you said: "You'll always be my girl; I'll always love you, no matter what..." Hmmm...
Now, ordinarily, I would over-analyze and try to get to the bottom of all this, but I put up with your lies and empty promises for 7 years. I don't have to dwell on a damn thing anymore, and I don't plan to. So, here it is: Goodbye! My final goodbye. If I see you on the street, I'm going to pretend I don't know you. I will not answer your texts. Don't bother calling me, I won't answer. Good luck in your life; I hope it treats you better than you treat the people around you.
End rant! :)
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