Yeah, see this is what the problem is. I am drunk and I write a bunch of cringe romantic shit…TELL you that I am, this is how you get the idea to ask me if I remember anything the next day. But beyond that too I send you money, I look up places you can call, I try to give you ideas of cities you can go to and look up buses for you. And because you’re pissed that I was hitting on you drunk you throw a fucking fit and post our logs where I am being cheesy.
And you know what…I can be accountable for things so it doesn’t really bother me that much. People can make fun of it for a while, and I shouldn’t be messaging people like that anyways…normally I wouldn’t but I was DRUNK. But my fault, really, and I can own that. You on the other hand, have zero integrity, accountability, or awareness. Even after I do all this nice stuff for you, what happens when I do something that pisses you off? Damned everything else I did, you will expose our private conversations, start schizo posting rants in the chat, make threads about me. Don’t care about you paying me back, how about just don’t be such a piece of shit.
Bro, if you don’t care and never cared and I’m crazy and you were drunk and are always drunk and lying, what am I supposed to understand/get from you “being nice” to me? What are you explaining this for? It’s not mean to show people that you lie and that your “racism” isn’t true or real and that I have a good reason to be upset about the situation as a whole.
I don’t understand you at all. You say one thing, then the opposite, then the opposite of that and then go back again, but then say you’re irreplaceable, like what are these things? What are you doing? What do you want from me? I don’t even have money for you anymore, so I don’t get it and you keep claiming you were drunk, but you weren’t because we talked for more than twelve hours straight and you had a single beer, in the very beginning.
One beer in 12 hours, doesn’t make you blackout drunk and makes you sober, actually, no matter how much you drank before that. So, again, you’re claiming it was a drunken thing, when you weren’t drunk and you said you remembered the next day and then freaked the F out when I was slightly upset that we still had to be homeless because I promised I wouldn’t go with the guy if you remembered.
You were sober when you said you remembered too, so you’re trying to clean up after yourself so people don’t think you’re hurt, but I’ve been with most dudes on this site. They all had issues with me ditching them, so everyone would know, even if you pretended. It’s not a secret that I’m amazing, just because you don’t want to admit it.
Everyone else already knows and we never had sex as amazing as ours, so there’s no way you could not be sad and everyone knows. Why lie? I strongly dislike lying, so it’s just fuel for the fire, bro. Plus, bridges have been burned to prevent a repeat of a loss of ten years. I’m too old to wait for you to be honest and open, as there’s no way to have any kind of relationship if a straight denial of even a human interest, via your racism claim, is being made as a reason for you to never have even liked me a little.
Clearly we can’t be vulnerable with each other, for even a second, so how can we ever be close? That’s why I was finished with our convo. I can’t operate out of confusion and uncertainty, especially when I’m homeless on the freaking streets. Why complicate things? We don’t work and we won’t work.
I told everyone you’re super sweet, kind and caring, so they know you’re not a monster, it’s just we are not emotionally strong people, so all we do is hurt each other, without even trying, since your alcoholism isn’t much of a choice. I just don’t understand why I have to explain stuff if you don’t even like me? Why are we discussing stuff?
There’s no point. You said you were lying about your feelings because you were drunk. I’ll accept that and move on. It’s about time. It’s been forever and clearly I can’t separate your lies from the truth, so I don’t think it’s safe/smart for me to keep being your friend like that.
