pointing fingers

i don't like you
cause you're everything
i cant stand about myself...
the contrived way you speak,
how you act
brand new and shiny and
sweet,
when underneath
you have been a
slut and a liar and a
thief...
i look at pictures of you
and my skin crawls
from remembering the way
you slept with my boyfriend
and smiled at me after,
with those long eyelashes
shrugging their shoulders, asking,
"me? i did nothing."
i hate how i never
cross your mind like you do me,
because i never did
anything awful to you
besides point out
that you were
-and still are-
a terrible writer,
and occasionally
point out the style
you choose to swathe in,
if that's what you want to call it.
i hate watching your
videos, even though i do
all the way through,
cause it fascinates me
how you can't even tell
that you're such a bad person,
so you've obviously done well
in your profession,
which is not all that
impressive.
i hate this part of me
for hating you for so long,
cause i know you may
not be the things i have
made you into,
and i know i did
that to make me
a better person while i
lamented
someone else's choices
made on your skin...
i hate how i said this
and how i still think it's true...
i have to admit, i'm
an awful lot
like you.

k.


it sucks when we have to understand why we don't like certain people. and most of the time, having to understand that the person represents everything you hate about yourself. they're usually not bad all the time, they just happened to do bad things to you. and i can't say i'm sorry, even if i wanted to, cause the rift is too long and benign now that there would be no point anyway. if it were up to me, she and i would have never met in the first place, so all this competition in my head would never have started.

oh well. my mind is as crazy as some of her outfits. we both should look in the mirror sometime.