You live on my floor. You used to be my roommate, now you're not. Thank
god. I haven't been happier.
You are loud. In fact, I can hear you yelling down the hallway for your
ugly friends right now. I'm currently turning up the music on my computer
so I can block you out.
You are also annoying and you can't sing. While I was in the bathroom, I
could hear your singing. You were singing a Disney song. I was thinking
about different ways I could kill you.
You're also racist, which confuses me, because you're black. I don't give a
shit if you came from the ghettos, I don't care if you're mother doesn't
like me because I have nothing to say to her.
You stick your nose into other people's business. You tell me that I have
no respect for you, but I can't respect someone who is a nosey, annoying,
piece of shit. You take up space and I hope for your death. I will have a
party if you drop dead. Who I'm with is my business, I never talked to you
because your advice was shitty. "STAND UP FO' YO'SELF." Shut the hell up.
Just shut the fuck up.
Learn how to talk, there's been a few times where you were speaking to me
and I couldn't understand you.
God, I fucking hate everything about you.
I used to always yell at my dad for being a racist, but, because of you,
I've learned that everything that he has said was true.
Your painting on the wall... it makes me want to throw acid in my eyes.
It's horrible looking. The colors you picked, the lettering, as an artist
myself, I just want to throw paint on it and just yell that you should never
be allowed near a can of paint or a paintbrush ever again.
Holy fuck, I wish I could tell you how much I hate you.
