The Last Word.

Today was a day that I wish I could pluck from my memory and leave on the side of the road with the rest of the garbage. I'm completely boggled by the things that leave imprints on my emotional stability; I'm completely annoyed that I cry about them.

I've had a breakdown and I can't tell if it's from nerves, or from everyone else. Things bother me too easily and I can't tell if it's because I'm an idealistic sucker or because they honestly should bother me.
Hearing things like, "Who would want to marry you anyway?" coming from Mike destroyed me. Oddly enough, not at the time, but two days later while missing my boyfriend tremendously. I think the reaction was heightened more by Josh telling me that Andrew obviously feared committment and that he should be "keeping me" in Toronto.

What the fuck is that?

Because of this, work last night was crap. My head works too fast and my thoughts get tangled up with lies and ill words. I hate when people blurt out stereotypical relationship agendas and expect my eyes to light up with some sort of epiphany towards how bad my coupling is. I'm smart enough to realise that there are a lot of things about me and my life that I am not happy with, but my relationship with Andrew is not one of them. It is the best thing in my life and anyone who tries to taint that can fuck right off and die.
Of course, that epiphany only came after an hours worth of tears and another hours worth of phone calls to Andrew. Silliness.

I've encountered an odd blast from the past while befriending a girl named Rachel. Her ex boyfriend is also, my exboyfriend and his diary has caused a world of fun.
I can easily understand why Ian would hate me now. I was a good girlfriend to him in our relationship. I wasn't extraordinary or awful, just good. I tried to have patience with him, tried to be understanding of his character, but it eventually grew to be too much. While I was dating Ian, I did believe that there was something there, but hindsight is a bitch and unfortunately, my hindsight now is more of a bitch to Ian that it ever will be to me.
Ian fucking Ball is quite possibly the biggest fart knocker on the face of the planet. I blame the six, very long and frustrating months that I spent with him on my massive fit of lonliness after college and the need to have a good length of cock to chew on.
I never loved Ian and I never will love anyone like him. He's selfish and cruel, immobile and stupid, mediocre and unloving. He's blind to the people that help and love him most while he keeps a court of idiots that he consistently lies to and baffles with his, "over-the-top-highschool-tales of teenage fun."
I recently had a run in with his "live journal" which is horrendously written and boring to boot.

GOOD LUCK WITH THAT JOURNALISM JOB, YA GOD DAMN JACKASS.

Anyway, he casually slipped in a rude comment about my failed trip to England. Why the fuck is Ian Ball commenting on my life? Why the fuck is Ian Ball reading my Blog? And better yet, why the fuck does Ian Ball continue to keep a ghost of my existence in his life through my internet journal? Fucking loser.
I only stumbled upon his mess of words through the befriending of his ex girlfriend who had mentioned that she was completely humoured by his attempt to explain his mixed feelings towards the end of their relationship. I only really half read it. It annoys me to tears when people are pompously arrogant and find it somewhere in themselves, the belief that they are right to be that content with their mistakes.

Idiot.

Rae was too good to Ian, he never deserved her. He did deserve me though.

His response to my comment made me howel. Trying to level our two existences is like trying to bring heaven to earth. Ian is a (I think now), twenty-four-year-old living in his mother's sun porch, constantly surrounded by Matrix and Star Wars dolls. While he isn't working his part-time job at the Movie Gallery, he's sitting on his ass, eating greasy pizza and playing video games. He writes about the progress of his video games on his Live Journal. This is an excessive measure of how trivial he is.
All of his friend's have moved away to persue their dreams. Ian has no dreams, in fact, the ones he has now are the ones I gave him, because he's a lazy mother fucker with no ambition. The only real person he has contact with is the fellow who lives with him and the only reason he lives with him, is because it's cheaper rent than his grandmothers.
When things get really bad with Ian, he dips into a massive downward spiral of self loathing and suicidal tendancies and usually calls his abusive father to send him a plane ticket to the part of Europe he's currently residing in. Oh? What's that Ian? You're going to France? Guess we know how low you can go right now eh?

I did however casually slip a comment in about fucking his ex girlfriend which obviously left him a little disgruntled. Anyone who claims to be a, "good writer" but can't manage to come up with a better insult than calling me and his ex fat, is a joke. And while I may be living with my father, I am in the smart way, by saving up a fortune for my higher education and biding my time while I accumulate my dreams and desires. I may not be fortunate enough to have a rich father who can afford to send me galavanting around the world, but I am fortunate enough to own a rich sense of self security, responsibility and worth. Fuck Europe, at least I won't be living with my mother when I'm thirty-two.

I almost didn't write this post out of fear of proving Ian's point. Unfortunately for Ian, I know that I will always have the last word. Ian has and always will be obsessed with his past and I know, he will absolutely crave to know my summary of his comments.

I didn't cry over Ian. I don't give a toss about Ian and his shitty existence. I cried because I'm tired of being mixed up with people who are plainly awful and stupid. Life isn't a difficult thing to live, you just have to have the sense in you to make smart decisions for yourself.