I find myself bitter.
$300 you still owe me.
$300 of I'll pay you back.
When I was so broke paying the bills.
The gas that I used to drive you everywhere.
To pay your payments on credit cards.
I spent the money on you because I was expecting it back.

And I didn't get laid.
It pisses me the fuck off how I slaved and was never touched with love.
And the expression nor passion was too present.
I still have such resentment towards him.
I will never see him again.
He has $600 to pay to get his license back.
Sloppy fuck that spends his money like a sloppy fuck.

I've got to forget him.
What is this friendship other than hope to gain the respect I never received.

And on another note, Juliana is a failure.
Who gave you the life you have now?
Enjoy taking my spot.
I got bored and left it.

Santa Cruz is filled with such small minds.
Judgmental mistake makers.

When I visit, most won't know.
They'll see me, they'll gossip.
More and more stories without veracity flowing about.
Talk about me, talk.
Your ugly words out of your ugly vaseline lined mouths.
Greasy spit dripping down your chin.

They're all so un alluring as time continues.
Silently bitter.

Asking me what I've been up to, and I've got stories to tell.
I ask you the same, and you keep saying, oh, you know, same old same.

Same old same. Same old brain.

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