Best of Luck with That

I know that you slept with Roxie. I'm not stupid. It was obvious back in May - it's even more obvious now. Why I even care is beyond my comprehension at this point. I know that she gave you the antibiotics for the "illness" that you had that I warned you not to take (as I know she is a nurse.) (And again, Levaquin is not to be taken lightly, dear.) Why bother lying? Yet you do anyway. I know why your "Ex" left you. She didn't cheat on you, you cheated on her, but yet you fabricate the lies, turn the tables and blame others for your grief.

I still talk to you and I can't understand why. Why do I bother? Why? I'm going away for the weekend. I hope that you don't call me, because I have no intentions of calling you. Go "hide in your hole" wrapped in your depression that you find so comforting, in the negative Karma that you permeate on a daily basis. Keep blaming your problems on everyone else, instead of taking responsibility for them.

Best of luck with that.

P.S. I'm reading again. You always made me feel ashamed that I am "book smart," that I dare to expand my mind through what could be called literature. I'm finishing "The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle." It's beyond your reading comprehension skills so I shall not dare to provide a synopsis. You would be bored of it anyway.

I stopped reading it when I began dating you. Now, I will finish it.