Kill that “damsel in distress” noise. I am not that bitch. I don’t need a knight in shining armor nor do I need you to save me from myself or sweep me off my feet. I don’t want you to attend my pity party, and I gives a fuck about how you think I’m feeling or why I’m feeling it and when the same thing happened to you.
I don’t need you to tell me everything’s gonna be ok because I already know that. I do. All I need you to do is be a friend and listen to me vent. I need you to buy me something ridiculous like pastillas spread. I need you to surprise me with my favorite cake EVER on a day thats anything other than “happy.” I need you to make me laugh when I feel like I’ve lost my funny. I need you to fuckin’ give me a swag check. I don’t need your advice, your insight, your two cents or your similar stories. Kill the fucking noise. I’m making enough for the both of us.
There’s an ice box where my cold heart used to be, but only because I wear my heart on my sleeve. If you hug me, I’ll cry. Big girls don’t cry, so just…don’t.
*Now back to your regularly scheduled life.*