Well I think I know what is my fucking
trigger for smoking... It's not habit, as I've dealt with that just
fine, it's stress, it's fucking stress... It's stress where I want to
smash somebody's smug face into a brick wall over and over and over
again.
The ONE fucking time I would've
thought, I know, he'll think before he fucking well acts and get's
“pissed off”, because, well, I don't know, because his
girfriend's trying to quit fucking smoking like he's been harping on
at me doing for the past goodness knows how fucking long, but know,
it's all about him, him, him... He's pissed off so nothing else
bloody well matters. But of course it's all sunshine and fucking
pixies whilst we're at his fucking mothers, and yay, aren't we having
such a good time, but as soon as we get back in the car, oh no, the
world and his fucking wife are apparently out to fucking get him.
I mean, it's not just me, it's common
fucking courtesy... When he was all down in the dumps about
everything I bit my tongue goodness knows how many times, despite him
having a go at me, and making me feel like shit, I bite my tongue,
because I can appreciate that he is in a time of need and that's what
LOVING FUCKING PEOPLE DO... but no, when the roles are reversed,
common courtesy does not fucking exist. I can't even begin to list
the times where he has not given me the benefit of the doubt... I
mean to name a fucking few; when wrat-wrat died, when all the shit
was happening with my parents, when I'm struggling with
school-work... NEVER, have I been given the benefit of the fucking
doubt. That is why I say we're not in a fucking relationship. Fuck
you.
Oh sure, you're nice to me when you
want to be nice... and we're the world's fucking happiest couple,
when you're not nice, you're really not nice. “Nice” people don't
spit at their fucking girlfriend. “Nice” people don't hurt their
girlfriend.
