Scar.form

So Heather came home at 4 in the morning Saturday. Which, actually, I’m being pretty generous with time as she actually came home between 4:30 and 5:00. What was she doing?
“Looking for Tabitha.”
Bullshit. You know, it wouldn’t surprise me if she was out getting high and getting fucked.
So last night she comes home at 10 or so, bringing Waffle House. You know, playing the good housewife she isn’t, and I ask her why she’s home.
“I’m here to spend time with you.” bla bla bla. Bullshit.
You know why she came home? She was sick, she didn’t feel well, and she didn’t feel like going out. It wasn’t because she wanted to spend time with me.
So she went out with Mary earlier yesterday. She was supposed to go to Wal-Mart. She said she was getting stuff for the house. What does she do? At some point she hangs out with Rabbit and then, because she’s in Jacksonville, she skips Wal-Mart altogether and goes over to Rons. So let me rephrase this – she’s wearing the sluttiest skirt she has, “passes out at Ron’s” and then comes home missing her belt.
“It must have fallen off.”
Yeah, it must have fallen off – somewhere between the couch and Ron’s bed. Must have “fallen off”.
So then I spend maybe an hour with her this morning before she zips off to Rabbits to get her phone. She comes back a little while later, and spends the next couple of hours getting ready to go out again. Oh, we watch a crappy movie on tv and barely say a few sentences to each other before she starts to get ready. And we don’t watch the whole thing – maybe 45 minutes of it. So she gets ready – and leaves, again.
“I won’t be home late.”
She’s been hanging out with Rabbit, and who the fuck knows who else, all day. Now she’s eating dinner with him. You know when the last time I ate dinner with my FUCKING WIFE was? No really, do you? Because I don’t. She’s too busy hanging out with her pot smoking friends and getting high to give two flying FUCKS about anything to do with this marriage.
Oh what a FUCKING privellege it is for her to come by and see me for two minutes before she GOES SOMEWHERE ELSE. I don’t understand what the big mystery is when it comes to me leaving her fucking ass. Oh, Matt, why would you leave me? I don’t know – you don’t care about me, you don’t care to spend time with me, you don’t care to clean up after yourself, you don’t care to introduce me to your friends, you don’t care to let me know (as a GOD DAMN courtesy) where you’re going. I’m sorry Heather, but this whole ‘I don’t make plans’ speech you gave me was real interesting the first twenty times I heard it, but you seriously need to get a fucking hold of your life and start making some FUCKING plans. This I don’t know when I’m gonna get home bullshit is getting OLD. what’s so hard about saying I’ll be home in 3 hours and ACTUALLY COME HOME IN THREE FUCKING HOURS?! Are you too god damn stupid to read a clock? Do you know how to tell time?
And what the hell is up with your fucking phone? Let me explain the whole fucking reason as to why people carry phones: it’s so other people can call them. What do you do? Never answer it and blame it on it being dead. You know what I think you do? I think you just turn it off before you get through the door so that when I look at it, I have to turn it on like it went dead before you got there. “Oh, it shows more battery power than it has.” yeah, I guess a DEAD PHONE that has turned it off is going to show 2 full bars of battery power. why not just 1? why not just blink at me LIKE EVERY OTHER PHONE IN EXISTENCE?! it takes more power to turn a phone on you fucking dumb bitch. why the hell would it show 2 bars? that makes no SENSE WHAT SO FUCKING EVER. so tell me, why do you have a phone? so you can screen your calls and only call back the dope whores you hang out with? you know what i think? i think you’re off getting cock shoved up your ass and you don’t want to answer my phone call with a “ohh ohh in my ass ohh hello?” fucking slut.
you’re so god damn full of lies that it’s a wonder your fucking head doesn’t explode from all the shit you keep in it.
so you know what you can do? you can take all of the false promises you ever made to me, take all of the lies you ever told to me, form them into a nice big middle finger and stick it so far up your asshole that it scratches the itch on the inside roof of your FUCKING LYING WHORE MOUTH and you can FUCKING ROTATE ON THAT UNTIL IT GOES ALL THE WAY THROUGH YOUR GOD DAMN BRAIN AND KILLS YOU! that’s what you can do. just sit and MOTHER FUCKING ROTATE you lying cheating FUCKING DOPE WHORE
yeah, that’s right. dope whore, bitch. it wouldn’t surprise me either to know that you smoke it. “oh i hate needles i’d never shoot up” oh shut the hell up you dumb fucking bitch – you can smoke it too. i know how you like to SMOKE SHIT – you probably get fucked on that and then get fucked on TABIS THICK COCK, that stupid she-male. i bet you’d give it away to anybody that could get you off (both with drugs and with STD infested cocks). Name a person and I bet you’d fuck em for a nickel and a dime sack. Why don’t you stick that dime sack up your ass too? Right along with my respect for you and my dignity before you stole it and turned me into this horrible shell of what used to resemble a person?
oh, and I’m not kidding about any of this and I will not explain it to you (Heather) if you just so happen to snoop through my shit and read my personal shit. the only explanation you’ll get is I am fucking mad and this is what I had to say – better on the computer and not to your fucking face, bitch. you can at least count that ONE fucking blessing, right?
Fuck you.