Second Chances

There's a reason I don't give second chances: there's no point to them because people always blow them. But of course I end up giving them anyway, millions of chances, not just seconds. Well, one person gets lots of chances because they make up for the shit. But some people don't deserve a first and I give a second and now I'm done.

I can't believe I called myself his best friend. I can't believe it. I just can't believe it. And he called me, his. But when it comes to judging people, that bit about judging a man by his friends...now look at me. Look at me. I'm disgusting. I'm foul, abominable, revolting. I make myself puke. And I know I'm not crying as much as Amber because I didn't waste my heart on him like that. Not at all. Not for years. Not in the same way. But I've never given my heart to someone like that, so it's the worst thing I've done. Because I give my heart to friends. I give my soul. And he decieved it twice. And because he got away with it the first time, he thought the second would be easier and that I'd soften my heart eventually no matter what. But five months now will turn to years and years and years. He can go shove his Ivy League head up his Ivy League ass and eat it.

No more chances. No more chances. I can't believe he got her a ring. Decieving her, too, no doubt. Decieving everyone. He's a monster. A demon. There are no words. I can't describe what I feel.

And on top of it all I have to live with the fact that I actually cared. That I loved my best friend who wasn't ever a friend at all to anyone. And I'm crying. I shouldn't be but I am. I'm crying. I can't believe I let my guard down for one second. And look what he's done to the girls who are in love with him. I'm glad I'm not in love. I'm glad I never was. I hope I never will be. At least with some despicable puke bucket or anything remotely resembling him.