I HATE PETER WHO WROTE ME A BUNCH OF GREAT AND ROMANTIC TEXTS

I hate you Peter! I hate the day when we met. When I first saw you
there in front of the bookshop. I hate you for writing me all those
great and romantic texts saying that you want to live with me with
this or that dog in this or that house with this or that car. Wake up
from your fucking day dreaming. I hate you for all those skyping and
sending me kisses over the cam. I hate myself for allowing you into my
heart, my home, and for slowly opening up to you. I hate that moment
when you were lying on the bed looking me straight in the eyes all
smitten away. I fucking hate you cause you said you love me and how
that's something no one can forbid you to say or feel. I hate you for
saying that you want both me and your boyfriend. Hello mr. Gold
digger, I'm not going to be your toy nor do I want to be with someone
false & someone who's lying about their relationship - remember when
you said that you and your beau are having it open in terms of seeing
other people? And then you showered every time after we fucked. I hate
you for lying to both him and me. I hate you for being so cute and
vulnerable while I was making love to you. It was love making, or did
I misinterpret everything you said while you were naked on my bed with
your legs around me.
I hate you for buying me a t-shirt in Japan, which you wore, cause you
ran out of clean clothes; or was it the guilt and the paranoia - maybe
you simply didn't want your beau to notice your gift for me. You know
what, I don't care anymore, you can shove that shirt down your throat
and choke on it. You twisted son of a gun. And yet, that makes me
twisted as well, twisted for being with you for those two and a half
months. I hate every night when you txtd me romantic BS and then went
to bed next to your beau. How the hell can you look him or your petty
chubby... oh, excuse me, stocky self in the mirror and feel okay.
And I HATE you for not taking your shirt off that easily while we had
sex... felt little insecure, huh? well, shove a big cork up your mouth
and stop eating if you're unhappy by the way you look. I certainly
don't need to deal with that. Ever again.
I hate you for coming back from Japan and then spending time on a
dating web site (as one of my friends told me and emailed me a
screenshot. Oh boy, I felt so humiliated and ashamed), whereas you
could've spent your time with me - I would've found the time, no
matter how filled up my weekend is with work.
I hate when you asked me on Thursday if I was still looking that hot
and sexy... You could've stepped down from your phantasy Lego world
and see it for yourself.
I love myself for feeling like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction right
now and I feel truly sorry for your boyfriend - I can only hope for
his sake that you guys really are having an open relationship thing
going on, otherwise, you are one two timing cheater and idiot and you
don't deserve either one of us. Oh and guess what, from next Friday
onwards, I'm living alone in my fab apartment and I'll be having a
blast. Enjoy your chocolate eating Sundays, build with those plastic
Danish bricks imaginary life you'll never have and study medicine so
that at least one good thing about you will do good to humanity.

May we never ever cross our paths again.

Bye Bye Peter

P.S. You wonder why you have all those problems with your iPhone? Why
are those CS people giving you headaches... Karma, buddy, karma. Not
only in relation to what you did with me, but also to what you did to
all others before. Gosh, I feel sorry for those who will come your
way...