A letter from me to you

Dear you,

Whenever I talk to you, I develop a massive headache. You sound like Kim Kardashian. I can't believe you dyed your hair blonde, you're not Beyonce. You look way too dressed up all the time. I mean, who honestly wears heels and leather pants to school? And WHAT is with the makeup???? You have a beautiful face, but all that makeup makes you look like a transvestite. Although you always look ridiculous, it's the personality that drives me insane. I've never fully understood why you always thought you were so much better than me. Not just me, but everyone. I get better grades than you by far. I remember going to your house in eighth grade and seeing straight F's on your report card. You're an awful singer, and an average dancer, so why do you think you have the right to judge everyone? The real question is, why do you still keep acting like nothing ever happened between us? Do you not remember three years earlier? You were my best friend, but best friends aren't supposed to make each other feel like shit. You told me that people only included me in conversations because they didn't want me to feel left out, not because they actually liked me. You said that boys didn't like me because my teeth were too crooked, and I wasn't beautiful like you were. You spread rumors throughout the entire school about how I was such a slut. Do you not remember how I confronted you? How you spit in my face, so I slapped you? I do. You were an awful friend, possibly the worst I could ever ask for. You may be beautiful on the outside, but your soul is ugly. We have nothing in common anymore, and a history of fighting, but you still have the decency to come talk to me about your 23-year-old boyfriend who's coming down to visit you from Seattle next week, and how much he loves you.

With love,
                Me

PS: This guy doesn't love you, he wants pussy.