My heart is not a punching bag, and neither is my vagina.

Just kidding.
Not really.

So, i turfed out /drank some of D-bag's sentimental shit wine. I would have drank it all if it weren't all cloudy with sludge. Sadly, i had to toss those in the dumpster.Yep. I did something mean. At the time, I didn't give a shit. Not even a small fart. I didn't give anything. I hoped he'd get mad about it. Thing is, I didn't tell him until last week. Just after we had our "let's leave that behind us" talk.

 So after inquiries about where the 6 bottles of wine were, i started to panic. He hasn't ever been too concerned. After lying for a day or two, I couldn't bare the shame (of lying) so i told him what i did to his bottles. Not good. I should have lied. He said that what i did was "Malice".Which made me laugh because he can't even use the word in a sentence. Yes, what i did was malicious. And delicious. At the time. It was wrong, it was not mine, and I knew exactly what i was doing. He compared it to premeditated murder.Then he told me that i was not sorry enough.

he claims one of the bottles was from his best friend who died. Funny, after 2 years, i had never heard of this best friend who died and left him with a shit bottle of champers. So i asked "who was this best friend?"
i did feel bad..
"Larry"
Larry? You are fucking joking, right? 2 years together, you never mentioned your best fucking friend LARRY who died, and left you with a bottle of 4$ sparkling wine.
Who knows, maybe i wouldn't have cared then either.

I was pretty mad. I won't get into it as that is VERY personal, and if any of you knew what he said and did, you'd have torched his house.

Not sorry enough
I beg to differ.
I'm sorry i didn't toss it earlier.
Sorry i wasted all of my energy.

I want Good Times. Not fight times. Not lay over and play dead times.
Not "watch me watch hockey , play on my iphone, and drink beer times"
Fuck.
i did it to myself.
 Just wonder what the big deal was about him. Oh right, i needed to learn how to respect myself, stand up for myself, and set boundaries. Think i am on a better path. thanks for that life, thanks. He' s probably already spit up on himself, sworn a few times, farted, and called his handicapped friends within the time i've typed this.

 Malice this, dipshit.

Fuck. I can't wait till all these feelings dissolve, writing this stupid shit helps. Strangely. It helps me.