Dear Dickhead,
Fuck you. For the past three years, I’ve actually believed that you like me. I mean, the way you treat me totally convinced me that we had something. You always want to be around me. You always want to talk to me. You go out of your way to do nice things for me. When we were voting who in the class is most likely to succeed, best actor, funniest, etc. you looked at the paper and said that if you could, you would put me down for all of them. You always hug me. You play footsie with me in reading class. Sometimes I catch you checking me out. You’ve said some of the sweetest things ever to me, but did you ever mean any of them? How many other girls do you say shit like that to? Do you feel anything, or are you just a cold hearted jack ass who plays girls like they’re pinball machines? How many girlfriends have you had? Like 50? I used to make up excuses for you because I thought you’d change, but now I know you were born a douchebag and will die a douchebag. I hope you’re ugly girlfriend enjoys her time as your boo.
Xoxo, Devon.
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