to portland.

this isn't about you, you fucking idiot.
even though you still haven't returned my house key. and i still have your ac/dc t-shirt.
you can keep the key.
i moved out of that apartment, anyway. right after the last time you slept in it.
i thought about burning it down to the ground, but it was attached to other apartments.

this isn't about you, you fucking idiot.
even though the last time you told me goodbye and looked in my eyes you also told me you'd never leave.
because this time you were going to try harder and be smarter and the drinking would slow and so would the blow and you'd definitely
quit fucking with that bartender that i can't stand.

but this isn't about you, you fucking idiot.
if it was, you'd owe me roughly $472.00 in parking tickets to the city of san diego and $40.00 to the city of coronado. and that doesn't count the numerous $20 nights i paid off for 3 years straight to park in that shitty lot behind your loft. i should charge you interest.

this isn't about you, you fucking idiot.
it's not about you, or all the times i made you mix-tapes while i slept with your band mates.
it's not about the fact that i spent half my rent money on your tour gifts, or the fact that i wore your shirts while i passed out in his bed.

this isn't about you, you fucking idiot.
i thought about following you up to portland, but i had a feeling you'd stop in l.a.
and you know how much i hate west hollywood.

this isn't about you, you fucking idiot.
if it was, i'd ask for my love letters back before you left town. and that card that i made you 4 years ago with our song lyrics on the envelope. you're a dick.
you still have my black wrap in your trash bags full of clothes somewhere. that was my favorite sweater.
when you stop driving that piece of shit getaway truck to take a break and check your busted ass iphone that the slutty bartender bought for you, check that pile of trash bags for my black wrap and my house key.
i hope you find your heart again in portland.

that's the only thing i miss about you now.
you fucking idiot.

reasons why megan will forever be my best friend, pt. 1

From: Megan Jackson
Sent: Thursday, April 02, 2009 9:10 AM
To: Wheeler, Misty
Subject: Creepy McCreeperson




Hello Misty,

I was just passing by outside your bedroom window this morning and I happened to see you. I didn’t want to wake you because you looked so peaceful, but I just wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked.

Love,
J*n Cons*d*ne

P.S. We’re having a funeral for my dog this weekend, I’d really like it if you could come.