the truth hurts. it stabs you in the back of the heart and twists the knife while it gets deeper until all of it has drained out into a pool at your feet. love stains just like blood does only you can’t see it on the rug when it’s been swept under it like dust. in my opinion you should keep your head down rather than your chin up. you should be ashamed of yourself because i know i am for originally being your accomplice and you’ve left me no choice but to question my own loyalty. pathological liars believe themselves and cover up the truth they make up in order to make themselves appear to be the good one on the surface. two wrongs don’t make a right and i wish i could exchange my eye for one of hers so i could see what she even saw in you. obviously you don’t value a friendship enough to swallow your pride but maybe that’s because you’re too afraid it might get caught in your throat and god forbid you choke. what you don’t realize is that nobody gives a shit where you go or who you do with your time. you don’t have to answer to either or and you can head for the catskills whenever you get bored.
i just feel bad for the innocent girl holding his hand while she skips down the street. she thought that whole time he was being honest and i even lied through my teeth to her face to cover up for his past that up until more recent than not was still his present. when she asked me if it was over i should have said no, probably not. right now he’s in a bedroom telling her a story – oh, and the night before he was under your covers he was sharing her white sheets. of course you should trust me because i made up all six sides of three stories. he kept telling her to not tell me things but when she got drunk she’d let secrets slip out. its my fault too though, you see i spiked her soda with lime and poured words down her throat. finding out he met his new lover while he was still with duchess then lied to everyone makes me wonder if the only thing he wanted was to get caught.