I don’t understand how you call yourself a boyfriend, a husband, a father, or a friend.
I’m sick of it. Go fuck around with someone else’s sister, go mooch off of someone else, go ruin someone else’s life. Grow the fuck up. I’ve given up so much for you. Yeah, I’m crazy but you’re so much worse than me and you remind me constantly of each and every little thing that I do wrong. I don’t do ANY of this shit to you. Take your constant need to get fucked up and take your beg-steal-borrowing ass somewhere else. I’m sick of taking the heat for you, I’m sick of taking shit for you from my family, and I’m sick of standing up for you. I’m done. Don’t call me Dot. I’m now just the mother of one of your two children, I’m not your lover, I’m not your friend. Ya know I just told my best friend off for calling you my “backstabbing boyfriend” only for you to turn around and stab me in the back. Wtf dude?
The saddest thing is that you can’t even get up the fucking balls to tell me what the fuck was going on when I caught the two of you. The one time anything like that EVER happened with me I told you right away. It’s not like I was fucking around with a guy in bed NEXT TO YOU for two hours. I shared a drunken .02 second kiss with someone during a cry-fest over our best friend dying. I beat myself up over it, told you and Alex as soon as I was out of jail to do so. You can’t even be honest with me. “If something was going on it was a sleep thing”?! I rolled over and both of you had WIDE OPEN eyes. Wtf is wrong with you?
Tesla aka "Dot" | Mommy to be. Crafty. Artist. Bipolar I. Borderline. Dissociative tendencies. Realist. Imaginative. Music. Art. Literature. Peace. Storm. <3












