You believe that men will give your life meaning, so you spend all your time chasing them, when all they do is chew you completely up and leave your for dead, over and over and over.

You so desperately want a man in your life to pick up your broken corpse and breathe life into it. If you wonder to close to me, I’ll show you the grave that I dug and pitch you into it.

Your life is horrible and meaningless and the only time you have a small moment of self worth is when there is a warm body next to you.

Handing over your body to me will not give you control. I know how bad you loath yourself. I know that the names of the men that you’ve bedded down have left you, and that’s a very troubling thing for you.

You sleep with any man you meet, looking for that familiar feeling, even if it’s just a fleeting moment. You don’t care, you try and keep this life secret from me, but then tell everyone else. I suppose you believe it will make your self worth rise up the ladder of debauchery .

I know why you won’t tell me. It’s because you are ashamed of what you do. You are ashamed of what you let yourself get away with. I know how hard you cry at night. And I know how much you want that one perfect man to change your life.

You are a pathetic creature. And me telling you any of this wouldn't break some new ground, it wouldn’t open your eyes to what you really are. It would only make you cover it up with more lies .

I’ve heard men whisper your name in hallways , bathrooms and locker rooms. It’s not much of a conquest when all you have to do to get in your pants is to give you some attention. Something your mother and father never gave you. It’s sad that you’ve never experienced real love and probably will never know what is.