Bullshit

The last record of B

Finally!

It has taken me months to delete you permanently. Your number in my phone caused me a great deal of anxiety.

We were once close – but I now accept your best facadé. ‘I could just lie to you now!’ You once said that, twice.

Only you were lying; it’s taken me forever to realise.

I trusted in you! I believed all you spoke, I lifted you high up and you gave me hope. But that was AI

You wanted to keep in touch, to have your ego regularly stroked ‘Hey Unique, how are you doing?’ Was your easiest entry.

Imagine you texted shit, to have access to me? Imagine you went from minutes to weeks – that felt like an eternity.

I do not wish you well!

I hereby retract all wishes.

I hope you drown in attention and your deceit eats into your dreams.

You may think you’re somebody now, but 7 billion people reside in our world.

Not even 0.1% know who you are*

I do not wish you prosperity as you had that once before.

You’ll never get that status again, never.

No. Not one.

Your next text will be deleted.

Unread.

Deleted.

Your negative energy is blocked, for eternity this time.

You’re fake.

Keep acting – the bathtub suits your life in the gutter.

I replay memories of your lies in action; I hear the cries and artificial stutter.

No more bullshit from you, B!

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