F**k him. F**k his poor attempt at home decor. F**k his oven, which I never left on. F**k his pajama pants and his bathing suits. F**k his stupid words and f**k him for thinking he could put them out there with no consequence. F**k the drama he said he hated, but was always too eager to hear. F**k his lies and the fight, which I don't give a s**t about anymore. F**k his sorry show of compassion and protectiveness. Its all fake. He's an a*****e and a tool and a prick and he doesn't deserve to come out the bigger person. F**k him for stringing her along. F**k him for telling you.
Which brings me to you. F**k your defined jaw bone and your blue eyes and your smile and your laugh. F**k you for thinking I was self-assured enough to not need the words, regardless of their volume compared to that of your actions. F**k your bed. F**k the closet you always insisted on changing in. F**k your entire apartment. F**k your supposedly good intentions. F**k you for leaving me guessing. F**k you for leaving. F**k you for getting mad when I guessed wrong. F**k whatever he said, though I've never given you much of a reason to trust me. F**k the messages you're sending her. You have no right to pass judgement. I fucked up, but I owned up to it and apologized so f**k you for not excepting that.
F**k him for seeming trustworthy. F**k you for making me like you.