H*ko, if you're reading this,
I just want to tell you,
I hate you.

Ill help you out,
And smile,
And laugh,
But I ******* hate you.
Because while I was telling you about
How my best friend tries to **** himself,
You started laughing.
And making ****** innuendos.

Because nothing is serious for you, is it?
Not my pain,
Not my sorrow,
Certainly not death apparently.
So do me favor?
Go **** yourself.
You think you're so cool for running from the police,
Getting girls numbers by the tens
Just for the fun of it?
Hah.
You've never been hurt.
You've been beaten by your father for not getting good grades, your fault mind you, but you've never been genuinely hurt, have you?
You have no clue what it feels like to watch your friend die, or to be so frustrated that you've resulted in giving up and letting everything push you around... you have no idea.
I can tell from your idiotic behavior and ingorance.

Hm. Now watch this. You're gonna read this.
And you'll make fun of it too.
Behind my back,
Of course.
You'll maybe apoligize with a smile,
Then ask me for a pencil, and a sheet of looseleaf.
Hah.
Like hell I'm giving you ****.
You know what you ******* need?
A life.

Cause maybe,
Instead of laughing and pointing at my ***,
Or laughing and teasing me and talking bout *****, ****, and all the girls aroind you like their objects,
Or not doing your work and mooching off of people,
You could have gotten your **** together
And became successful.
I pity your insolence.