bad seed
2:48 p.m.

Dear You:

I need to tell you that this isn't going to work. If you were thinking with any sort of sense you would see it too, but obviously you're not. How can you not understand that we are going nowhere? We are standing still. We are immobile.

I'm sorry I ever got you involved with me. I could have controlled it. I could have stopped it. But I have always been a sucker for a cute face, and a seemingly self assured attitude. But you just don't understand what I am, and I need to tell you so that maybe you'll see finally that I am right when I say we have to end this.

I am a manipulator. A twister of words, a user of people, a general control freak who feels that people are all just characters in her story that she can write into any part that she feels like on a whim. Sure, I'm not all bad, but I am not at all good either. Nobody knows who I really am because, depending on who's in the room, I only let certain facets of myself show at certain times...whatever stands to gain me the most amount of power or information or adoration....whatever I need.

Don't you see that even if all of this other stuff hadn't gone down, this would be reason enough for me to tell you that we are through? I am tired of hurting people, and then seeing them suffer because they just don't understand that it wasn't something they did...it was me, all along. And that's going to be you pretty soon, if you don't get out now.

So I need to tell you that this isn't going to work.

I just hope that I don't back out at the last minute and continue this little charade.

- Me

<< - >>