Why I Don’t Fuck With You

📸: Bitmoji

Why I don’t fuck with you.

If not for the endless drivel of replayed news and images with no progress. Then most certainly the shit you text me after hours.

You bring nothing new to the table.

You speak about the same things – which would be fine if the conversation weren’t the exact same! It’s like time has frozen and you only know of the same things.

No growth!

I tire of the alerts on my phone that you need me. When I check it’s the same, I already know before I read anything from you.

     ‘Hey, Hun, hows u? xx’

      ‘Nah! I’ve got da flu.’

     ‘Wanna meet for lunch?’

They all start the same, once I reply you complain…

     ‘I never hear from her. Bitch! We were fucking best friends.’

     ‘We should meet for lunch.’

     ‘You, know so and so are still crap!’

Nothing new in your life.

No changes!

But you still complain about your life, how nothing goes right. Right?

Why I Don’t Fuck with You

I’m a person that grows continuously and shall beyond my time. You live in 2014 and remain chained to 2009. I can’t invest time into rubbish.

So, it shall remain here in 2019

Right here.

I’ve no time for those that replay the songs of idol gossip, or the movies of repeat actions, expecting new results.

Yes, you read that right the first time.

I’ve no time for those that replay the songs of idol gossip, or the movies of repeat actions, expecting new results.

You play credits to 2009 all the time. Because that’s all the time, you think about. You eat pork chops and mash, but ‘act’ shocked when the scales confirm that your weight has increased.

Lunch is always pending…

You speak of it, but it never comes into existence.

You’re always overspending, but that’s okay – as others repeat stupid actions by lending you money. You never learn. Well, you refine ‘the art of entitlement.’


I forgot to note your frequent comments, ‘I’m not going back to work, the government owes me money.’  To all those that are on a continuous spiral of nothingness, walking down the spiralling stairwell of nothingness. ‘Enjoy.’

Why I Don’t Fuck with You?

One day I realised that our ships are unequal. You take, take, take. I give, stop and then give more. You beg, beg, beg, and I ponder over what our minds think about one another…

You talk, and the output is stagnant like the plastic that remains at the bottom of our waters. I speak and bend the narrative, only you sway and revert to repetition. Then I’m trapped!

You are YOU, and at one point in my life, I enjoyed the stale attributes of repeated discussions. I enjoyed bitching about so and so and droning on about shit I never did anything to alter.

It’s 2019 as I type this, Christmas Eve to be exact 05:20 to add better vision.