I'm scrolling through my Sprint bill to find Mr. M's number because of course i deleted it when I decided to give him walking papers. I need to sleep. F*ck him. I'm tired, I'm inconvenienced, screw waking him up.
There are a lot of numbers.
I look at one, and then MY F*CKING PHONE RINGS!!!!!!
IT'S HIS ASS WANTING TO MUTHAF*CKIN TALK!!!!
Talk? Wtf is there to talk about?
GET ME IN YOUR APARTMENT SO I CAN SLEEP BEFORE I SPAZ THE F*CK OUT AND BASH YOUR HEAD IN WITH MY SPACE HEATER!!!!!
I DON'T WANT TO TALK!!!!
GET THE CHICK YOU WERE WITH, TELL HER TO WAIT, GIVE ME YOUR MUTHAF*CKIN KEYS, AND THEN GO THE F*CK BACK TO HER!
Screw nice. People don't deserve nice any more.
He asks me if I'm upset.
Naw, I aint upset, but if this Seroquel kicks in and I am not on a couch or bed, I will SPAZZ THE F*CK OUT!!!!!