Love

I love you, but you’re a son-of-a-bitch, not like the good son-of-a-bitch we had, like the reason people started calling other people a son-of-a-bitch. Fuck. All you had to do was nothing. How hard is that? Why is that hard? Sit on your ass and read a book, watch a movie, sleep. You know how many people would kill to be allowed to stay home and sleep all day? Billions.

But you? No, you’re “too good for that”. You need to make something of yourself. You need to be remembered in the future. News flash asshole, you’re not going to be famous for what you did but infamous in my eyes. You think anyone’s going to remember me? You know how much I care about that? Not at all. I’m going to be homeless, asshole, because you fucked up and you’re going to Butt Fuck Egypt, but that’s not what you want. But no one cares what I want or what you want because we’re in the United States of America: “The land of the “ fees” and the home of the “slaves.

And I did everything for you. Anywhere you needed me to drive you, I drove you. I cooked for you, cleaned up after you, cleaned the house, changed the sheets, washed your dishes, but none of that was enough for you. And I did it so I could keep living here at a cheap rate and because I love you; make that loved you. I made love to you and you fucked up. You are a fuck up and your owners are assholes. You’re a well off slave. Your parents are your slave owners. But I do love you because I can’t help it. The heart feels what the heart feels.

And then there’s your dog. You and your fucking dog are both stupid and crazy or vice versa. You give the dog a monthly bath but don’t check the water temperature, you shove the flea and heart worm pills down his throat instead of hiding it in soup. The dog’s smart and you’re an idiot. You’re book smart, but only book smart. Outside books, you’re a workaholic idiot; I have to explain everything to you. Like how the dog isn’t a teddy bear so you can’t squeeze it like a teddy bear.

But I tucked them both in. You’d feel my breasts, but most days I don’t feel like fucking. I’m fat and my legs cramp. That’s just what happens, but I masturbate when he’s out doing his bullshit. Now, I’m going to be homeless. You’re an asshole. Why do I still love you? Why am I crying? I’m writing this to let you know how selfish you are and to change . . . But I’m wasting my time and ink and paper. Who gives a fuck? I’m writing it for my therapy, not for you. For once, I’m thinking of myself instead of what you want for me. Fuck you or rather let someone else fuck you, you son-of-a-bitch.

Unless I win the lotto, I’m going to have to move back with my parents. I don’t want to live with them. Who, at 60 years old, wants to move back in with their parents? No one. That’s who. You’re having suicidal thoughts. Yea? Well, so am I. I’m here to comfort you but who’s going to comfort me? No one. My parents aren’t and neither are yours.

Give away or sell everything I own to move back home to hell. You’re going to a different kind of prison where you’ll have less rights. Parents took away your cell phone and your email, but it was worth it, right? You have no morals or maybe you don’t understand morals; you’re a smart idiot, which is why you have legal guardians. But I don’t. I’m just fucked.

But I’m praying. I’m praying for a miracle. God, soften the hearts of his legal guardians so they’ll let me stay here and finish my degree at the community college. So we can move somewhere where I can be his guardian if he fucks up. Kill the overseers. Kill myself so I won’t have to live with my parents again. God, take me home, please. God, protect us from our enemies and end legal guardianship. Give me a place other than my parents to live or let me die: “Give me liberty or give me death”.

God, I know yours listening, help. God is dog spelled backwards. I begged his parents, but they didn’t care. Then, they wonder why there’s so much antisemitism in the world. I’m a catholic myself.

But I packed what I could in my car. I explained to both sons-of-bitches they’d never see me again and I blocked his number. I know he’s sorry, but sorry doesn’t solve anything or help anything. You’re sorry? Not as sorry as I am. Last time I’m trusting a man or at least a Jewish man again. But I love you both. The damn dog more than you, but I still love you. I love you. You son-of-a-bitch. Why? Why’d you steal my heart? I love the dog more.

So, i let him cuddle with me one last time before I left. He cried: I cried; and the kikes didn’t care. They just care about their son keeping his benefits. So, I hug him and I leave. Gotta start from scratch again and see if I have enough gas money to make it home to my parents. Why? What did I do wrong, Jesus?

I went to church, I made donations, I volunteered for the church, even while taking care of my idiot boyfriend. I was good. I even took him to church and dressed him up. So, help me, Jesus. Help me win the lottery or give me the courage to end it. Help me, Jesus, you son-of-a-bitch. Help me! Tell me what I need to do. I cried to Him, but kept driving to my parents, who God said to honor. Why are you doing this to me, God, you son-of-a-bitch. I love you.