Why the hell do I even talk to you? I don't like you. You're not my friend. We always fight. You are the most annoying self-pitying person I know. We can't hold proper conversation for very long.
Unless of course were talking about him. In that case, I have a million questions and you have a million answers and there's a few cat fights along the way, but when we talk about him I'm most attentive. I care about your feelings, but only so that you wont get mad and stop telling me about him.
And I'm pretty sure I know why I still talk to you now. Because when we talk about him, it shows me little glimpses of his life. Who he talks to, who he talks about, where he eats lunch, what he does that's annoying, what makes him laugh. Anything and everything is a precious little tidbit of fact.
NononononononononoNO. That can't be true. I don't care at all. I don't care about him anymore. That's what I told them all. That's how I feel.
He's stupid. You don't like him.
He's stupid. You don't like him.
He's stupid. You don't like him.
He's stupid. You don't like him.
He's stupid. You don't like him.
He's stupid. You don't like him.
He's stupid. You don't like him.
He's stupid. You don't like him.
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