[M...]

To you, fucking bastard:

Pain. Hurt. Sorrow. Suffering. Greif. These things are not a fucking contest. What makes you think that because I have a sadness to tell, that you can try and beat it out? What the hell is wrong with you? To tell you the truth; I couldn’t fucking care less. Me: (explaining why today could’ve been better) Today is the two year anniversary of my friend’s suicide. They think it might have been an accident, but that doesn’t make it hurt less. His life was cut so short. You: I’m sorry Me: Thanks, it’s been a tough day. You: my turn, Me: (confused) sure.. You: Jan 2008 I leave house for dinner with dad and were driving down road and a man runs out in front of dads car and he is killed on spot. Still get flashbacks at times… I left. Seething. First of all, January… It’s March. Second, at times… not all the time? Oh how sad. Third, why the fuck are you trying to compete with my hurt? What is wrong with you?? Forget your fucking life and have some true sympathy, for someone else. You’re always talking about how horrible your life is cause you can’t find a girlfriend, or you don’t get out anymore… Get the fuck over it. Care about someone else, don’t turn it around into your problem, and tell it to someone who is clearly a bit broken down at that point. That’s just not right.
It’s just not right…