Intoxicated Idiots.

Aliteration was a highlist of last night so do excuse me if I start bringing up silly things like "The Peculiar Pillows!". I've got some Jack Johnson in the background to sway me to sleep before a busy day at the european market. My life is hectic. If there are many typo's and spelling errors, it's only because I'm tired, angry, teary and dripping.

Want to hear some aliteration that seems to be an apropriote topic for this heart felt post? False Friends. Oh, those are some harsh words, but let's take this right to the core of the meaning; a friend that is false, someone that isn't quite showing their true colours.

I am very aware that this will be the first place people will look for the inside scoop but when would something like this stop me living up to the expectations of wanks? I expect you to wank and you expect me to be ticked off, apparently.

What on earth happened last night? I don't even know, I don't want to think about all the rubbish that got said. What was the point in all of the fuss the both of you caused? You were treating that poor girl like a piece of meat. I hope to God she feels like a fucking idiot when she wakes up. You're true colours really were shining through last night, like a big rainbow made of pure ugliness.

(Now addressing you, see what you're making me do? I hate that this annoys me so much.)
I expected that kind of behaviour from him, I don't know him really well but I know him well enough. You, I thought I knew. You that would sit and talk to me about how unattractive women it material that covers 30% of their surface mass. You that told me just 2 days before the party that you wouldn't go near those girls, that it's just not you.

But it is you, isn't it?

If that's you, then I don't know you. I can't possibley know you if you think it's acceptable to go around getting head from a girl you barely know, a girl that is too drunk to care, a girl that is the complete oposite of what you've been telling me that you want out of a girl. If this is the guy that you really are, which it obviously is because all of the lightbulb signs are pointing your way, then who the hell am I friends with?

Where did that nice guy go? I could tell anything to you before. I told you about being force fed the banana when I was little. I can't tell you anything now, you're not my best friend now, you're another dot. Who are you?

When I walked past you, trying not to make a big deal about the ridiculous situation that you got yourself into, you blurted out "Well she's okay with it!". I could have hit you.

Why don't you care what I think? Any other one of my friend would have came to see what was wrong. I sat in that room for about 15 minutes waiting, hoping you'd peel yourself from her and think, "Hey, Heather's not really seeming her usual, perky self! Maybe I should be a good friend just like she is and make things better." But no, a girl can only dream.

See what you;re doing? I haven't cried in weeks! I was in a good place. Back to reality.

I thought after our chat, in the bathroom, it had hit home. I thought you might have cared about what I think and how I think you're a decent guy. Not that I do now. I just want to crawl up into a big ball and stay there until my Mum comes back. God, I want my Mum. She's only just left and I'll be an abolute wreck by the time she gets back. Time to hunt out the trusty old ibuprofen and draw some blood!

No, I am not upset about this. I will not be upset about something as miniscule as sex.

I hate what you have done.

I don't hate you, but what you've done and what you're doing is putting me through this kind of hell that I do not need, not now and not ever. I don't want to be friends with whoever you're trying to be. I hope it was worth it, I hope it was worth losing this because I am not going to apologise. As a matter of fact, I don't want to talk to you until you do.

P.s.
He wants you to feel like this. Don't fall for it, again.