I really hate you. anytime I hear your voice, i think: ‘here we go again.’ the obsession you have for people who show no interest, don’t like you, and avoid you is irritating and pathetic. you’re an expendable, people-pleasing, sycophantic, losing gofer who’s best personality traits revolve around arrogance, uselessness, trollop, and foolishness. your taste in men in concerning, your taste in fashion is a threat to culture. your unimpressive drama you start with innocent people who did nothing to you is just a mask for your pathetic thirst for control and attention. do us all a favor and fall into a pit, preferably one deep enough to swallow your ego whole. your entire personality is just “dispensing, arrogant, lazy, whining, depressive, nonessential doom-scroller on tiktok” with a side of “i watch men lose interest in me and stay because LOL why not?” you’re the ultimate deadbeat–too lazy to do anything but find a new guy every other Friday and call it “love” and crack snarky one-liners like a villain in a bad sitcom. your ideal day is hitting a pen, sneaking out, strumpet around on instagram, and talk about everyone else’s life and what they have going on, which, frankly–is something predictable for a person who’s personality can be mistaken for wet cardboard. if exhibitionistm had a face, it’d be your grin, smugly watching the chaos unravel in the childish performative tittle-tattle you start while getting absolutely nothing out of it. your entire contribution to the apocalypse is being a obnoxious, posing cyber-bully with zero ambition beyond doing horrible makeup and having such a high ego it’s practically leaking out of your pores. if you put as much effort into your relationships as you do in having an opinion nobody asked for and running back to the same ex who betrays you each time, maybe you’d actually make some bonds in life you don’t complain about non-stop. but no, you’re too busy perfecting the art of laziness. your type in men revolves around being treated like a sock. you’re used, you’re walked on, and forgotten about. you would lose a battle of wits to a houseplant, a cactus specifically. based on the fact you used me to test your sexuality. your vinyl collection is as similar as your taste in men, collecting them, playing them, keeping them hung up, and never taking them out again. more than half of your vinyls revolve around artists and albums you do not truly enjoy, just the aesthetic of the album. you’re a disgrace to this world, your existence has had no purpose or meaning, and the only reason you and your family are homophobic is because you hate to see others in true, happy, and healthy relationships; you find them unpleasant because it’s a little reminder each day that you’ll never find a happy relationship from being so self-centered, lusting, and thinking you have a lot to bring to the table when all that is at the dinner table is dispointment. you are a classic example of men’s gay awakening. you pretend to not care what anyone thinks, but deep down, you wonder every day what everyone’s perspective of you is. you mirror all your insecurities on innocent women who have had nothing to deal with you. the truth is that you never actually fall in love; you love being loved. you’re only in relationships for the gaze they give you that keeps your ego high. suck a fat one.