it was a gift for you in your s*** darkness, freak
Siren

Siren, You seemed so happy in pictures when you thought I was gone. Your disgustingly sweet sappy love filling you with warmth and hope. It made me sick. I hate happy couples who brag about their love. You make us bitter singles miserable. That’s why I came back. I had to make you dead inside like I am. And Your eyes don’t lie, I have you in turmoil. The light I see in those older pictures, from when you thought it was over, is gone. You’re just as m I serable as I am, and just as good at hiding it, but you can’t hide your lying eyes. The only question left is if I’ll sacrifice my 30s to ruin your 20s. I don’t want to, but I can’t stop. I am magnetically compelled to f*** with you until you’re more miserable than me. I’ll waste my whole life on pointless revenge at this point. I keep asking for help, but no one cares. They’re just letting this happen because they’re busy with their own problems and incompetency. They all say the same recycled condolences and metaphors.