Letter to a Flake
3:51 a.m.

Hey. You suck. I wanted to lay into you so bad earlier tonight, but I didn't. Know why? Because I'd like to think that I have a little class.

Unlike you, Ms. Flake. Seriously. I move to this huge city, all on my own. I know no one except for you. And how many times have I hung out with you over the past five months?

Answer: once. And that was just me sitting with you watching your cable.

When you add that up with the number of times I've asked you over AIM if we could hang out, + the number of times you've flaked out on our plans, + the number of times you've reschuled and then reschuled your reschedule, all that = crap.

I think that I'm not mad at you, really. More than anything, my feelings are hurt. It is so shitty of you to act like I'm your friend, and that you like me at all. Then you go ahead and flake out on my like there's no tomorrow.

Do you realize how that makes me feel? Do you know how that makes me feel even more lonely than I did before? You are so inconsiderate.

And you don't realize it, but you can be so fucking codescending. If you don't have time for me in your life, then don't act like you do.

I mean, it's not like we were ever best friends in high school or anything. But you're like my lifeline here. Some lifeline I've got.

What is the nature of this friendship? I have plenty of anonymous people I chat with online. Why would I want the same kind of relationship with you?

Oh wait, scratch that. I forgot that I blocked you from my buddy list about an hour ago.

Actually, I'm blocking you for good. I don't want to have anything to do with you. You tried to make up for all the times you've ditched me, but I've had enough. The funny thing is I'd bet dollars to doughnuts that you'd STILL flake on me, even this time. Even again.

I don't have time for flaky people like you. This friendship is dead. Good riddance.

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