Monday, March 26, 2012

The Zone: The Unsent Series, Volume 4, Part II

.:I Thought I Knew You:.

Dear Erratic Duo,

Yep, I was definitely wong about you. The both of you. I can’t believe that after all this time, I’m still stuck having to play the same old dance with the same old scenarios and deal with the same old bull from supposedly new people.

I thought maybe things would turn out differently this time, but I was woefully mistaken. Flake out on me not once, but twice in the same go? Run the tired old “let’s just be friends” line by me and whine about you not being able to get over the age gap when I’m not the one who has a biological clock to worry about? Seriously?

And then you people expect me to take it sitting down? You actually expect me to just look at you and tell you we’re cool, despite the fact that not only have I heard the same old crap from so many people over the years, you actually come out even more insincere than I’ve ever heard it before? Oh, please. Give me a break. You think too highly of yourselves if you actually believe for one moment that I’d still have the patience to put up with that.

I’ve gotten too old for your games and for your bull. You can try playing them with a willing patsy, but I refuse to be that guy for you, especially since you’re too full of yourself to realize what an utter joke you’ve made out of the concept of friendship.

Erratic Duo, friends don’t put friends in tiny little boxes and tell them that’s all there is to it. Friends don’t go back on their own word five minutes after saying it, nor do they settle for offering vestigial platitudes that offer even less consolation than someone laughing at your own funeral. So please, do us all a favour and stop making friendship some kind of pathetic consolation prize people can hope to expect for not living up to the very standards you can’t really live up to, yourself.

Oh, yes, I’m angry. I’m angry, and you’re lucky that I’ve decided to cut you out of my life before I did. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.

Considering how old you think you are, you’ve turned into nothing but a bitter aftertaste in my mouth whenever I have to say the word “friend.” You made a mockery out of it, and I find it so sad and disgusting that I hardly have to change anything about what I say right now to end up talking about two supposedly entirely different people. Guess you showed me, huh? I should’ve known better than to think highly of you.

I'm sick and tired of this. Guess you just happened to be the straws that broke the camel's back.

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