(no subject)
Wooo, pissed now. Supremely so. Like I give a flying fuck. Not to cause drama for the people that I actually LIKE, but you've been a thorn in my side for years now, darling. I've never been happier to have ditched your ass.
You can be thick as a brick, and for all that, you think you're on top of the world. Like you are the moral compass, the ideal person. Hate ot break it to you, dollface, but I. Don't. Care.
My last name is Kirkham. Honest. Google me; Kaille Kirkham. You can read some articles I wrote for camp, see my name in the starring column of a play. Because you see, I don't care. The day someone hunts my ass down is the day I move into a convent.
Simply put? Not gonna happen.
And if you hadn't replied, no one except the people who know you would have made the name connection. That's the lovely thing about the internet; no way to put a name to a face.
You pointed yourself out.
You fucked me over years ago, you know. In case you hadn't noticed, I hold grudges. For a looooong time. I never forget. I dumped one of you; and you tried to tell me I was wrong. So I dumped you too. Why? My decision, my rules. You don't like it? Too bad. I haven't called you a friend since I was about 12, and I never will again. Never planned too. Between your condescending attitude, and your parents thinking I was 'unhealthy to be around', it doesn't take a genius to see that you were never a real friend.
You can kiss my skinny white ass, dear, because the day I lower myself to give a fuck is a cold day in hell indeed.