Sorry that I’m no longer fourteen and living in a dark house that is more cage than comfort. Sorry that I’m not lonely. Sorry that I see past your sorry ass game. Sorry that thirty minutes on Skype isn’t worth losing my better half, the love of my life, the man I will marry, the man I will love with every atom of my being even when I am star dust millions of light years away. Sorry that I am not going to subject myself to this conversation a moment longer.
Yes, I am sorry that I grew up, while you’re 24 years old without a job, sitting cross-legged in front of a laptop for some other underage girl who feels unloved by her father and unwanted by her mother… I am sorry… but not to you.
Im not a piece of ass. FUCK you.
- Sylvia Plath (via corsara)