So now that you can't read this anymore, Kayla, fuck you, and everything you stand for.

You are an egotistical hypocrite who thrives on drama, and only has a fiancee because he has no fucking self esteem left. You will never, ever amount to more than a burger flipper at McDonalds because you are stupid, and you lack the will to try and improve that.

You base everything off of a game, which is indicative of your overall mental health. You're crazy as fuck. You demand attention all the fucking time, and when it's not on you, GOD FORBID someone else try to talk about their issues. When I have a problem, I don't bring it up in public and make it awkward for everyone to chat. If I want to talk about it, I find my friends, and I talk about it.

Oh, wait, right, you don't have any friends, because you are literally incapable of figuring out how people actually interact. You are 22 years old, and you are broken, with no intentions of fixing it. Because it's "everyone elses" fault you're always angry, and everyone elses fault you're broke, and everyone elses fault that your fiancee would rather talk to a 17 year old girl instead of you. Have you ever thought that maybe it's because the 17 year old won't go off like a fucking mental patient if he says one thing that she disagrees with?

You are abominably stupid, and if you weren't such a huge fucking uber bitch, I'd actually feel kind of sorry for you. You may, or may not get married someday. The two of you will be stuck in your dead end jobs.

God for FUCKING bid you get pregnant, because your children will, undoubtedly, be fucked up.

In essence, you are worse than cancer. And I can say that, because my mom has cancer.

So you think you're dealing with bullshit? I have to keep my entire fucking family together, along with my own life. I have to take responsibility for all of them. I have to keep my mom on an even mental keel, or she's going to lose it. She lost her hair yesterday, and I laid on the bathroom floor for two hours and cried, and you don't hear a fucking PEEP of me bitching about it.

Your life is fucking terrible, because you made it fucking terrible. It's on nobody, but you, to fix it. Which you can. Occasionally, in tiny glimpses, you realize what a horrific mess of a person you really are, and I see a glimmer of hope, until the next entirely broken bit of writing escapes your fingers, and I realize that you just might be broken beyond repair.

I have forgiven many people for many things, but I have, once and truly, found the one person that I have no interest in ever giving another chance as long as I live.

I wish you all the best, but I honestly hope you fucking choke.

~Katie