Illustration by Bob AulWe used to be best friends. Turns out that you'd been saying I'm a slut and making up all sorts of fucking nonsense about me the whole time! Now I wonder if all the secrets and stories you told me about yourself—and other people who probably trusted you—were true. Either way, little miss attention whore, you violated everyone's trust just to tell lies from your shitty fucking mouth in an effort to make everyone trust you. Is it because your family is white trash and your mother fucking hates you? Or is it that you still yearn for the same love and affection that your brother used to give? No one will ever fuck you like he did, huh? Well, what do you expect, you fat fuck? Stop sucking so much dick, hoping that it will taste as good as his. And I hope cutting yourself in all those pathetic fake attempts at suicide was worth it. Good luck with the prescription Prozac and the crystal-meth addiction you've now developed. By the way, remember that guy you keep holding on to in your mind, the only one you ever loved? The guy you thought you'd eventually marry despite the endless barrage of bullshit you told everyone about him constantly treating you like shit? Guess who he's engaged to! Guess who he belongs to and, better yet, who belongs to him! Guess who the first person he's fallen in love with is! Please tell me that's enough for you to kill yourself.
Send anonymous thanks, confessions or accusations—changing or deleting the names of the guilty and innocent—to “Hey, You!” c/o OC Weekly, 1666 N. Main St., Ste. 500, Santa Ana, CA 92701-7417, or e-mail us at le*****@oc******.com.
