Sometimes people tell me to stop being so pretty. But like, why would I do that? I’m not very smart, or funny or talented. Being pretty is like all I’ve got.

And even that’s kinda flakey.

You save your money, to get that fast car you’ve wanted.

So you can impress and have meaningless sex with even faster women. 

So you can feel better about the skills you so lack. 

Perhaps to fill the void your father left.

In doing so, you’ll leave a void in me.

That’ll I’ll have to fill with boys like you.

In the back of the cars they saved all that money for. 

Vicious. 

Cycle. 

You should build a bridge. And either:
1. Get over it.
2. Burn it.
3. Jump off it.

I’d pick the third for you.
You suck.
Everyone was right.
I just want to forget you.