It’s Emily. Fo realz.
|—||Bree Van De Kamp|
Oh, and thanks for getting me sick. And have fun getting drunk every night and banging bitches that will never love you. I’m done with that lifestyle. So I’m done with you.
I finally forced myself to turn iMessage off. That means, Justin is 100 percent blocked from contacting me. Calling, texting, Facebook, Instagram. Everything. I’m just hoping it will also block him on my iPad.
I’m tired of adjusting for his comfort when he doesn’t ever show me the same respect. He’s selfish, rude, cocky, insensitive, indecisive…the list goes on and on.
And he probably fucked someone tonight. He swears up and down that he didn’t. Saying that he loves me and was thinking about me the whole time he was at his stupid party.
I don’t believe a fucking word you say.
I’m just praying I can stay away from him and not be lured back in for the billionth time.
And I’m also praying I’m not pregnant with his fucking kid cause he can’t use a condom like a normal person.
Summer of 2012 was a beautiful summer. We really were finding ourselves in the best ways we knew how. Different groups intersected in ways they never had before. Unimaginable bonds were created, and separated that year. We fell in love. We fought. I moved. I took chances. I ate good. I was social. It was the first taste of real freedom. We had the most intricate weave of introductions, but somehow none of that mattered. We found our family. Atleast I did…