stupid girl; can't believe you fake it.

Wow, Mehcov.

I think it's safe to say now, that I hate you more than I ever have. What are you, some kind of intellectually fraudulent sociopath of society? A manipulator and summoner of another's emotions for your pitiful short-lived pleasure? Leave it buried beneath hardened cement where it belongs. I don't feel it anymore; it's shame enough that I did to begin with. You are such a fucking joke.
And every time I see you, you grow duller and duller and lose the spark that boiled my blood. You are dull with melancholy's shine, guts dragging out behind you in tails of spaghetti. Before, you actually smiled. Now you're like a tired donkey dragging its hooves through stretching desert. And somehow... I don't know what it is but there is a blinding curtain drawn across your face, so that it takes me ten seconds or more to stare at you, trying to fathom who you are and why you look familiar for some reason. There are some days I see you and you look beautiful; others, more frequently now... I want to cut your throat because without its function, you have no voice. And your voice is the worst of all. It, and the tired strings that hold your contrived smile, have been pulled so much they grow weary with grip and you droop like saggy cow udders. You and that piece of shit... what's his name? Dipa. Mehcov and Dipa.  Fucking joke, I take a drag of my fag and he comes outside and sneers at me. For about ten seconds; as long as it takes me to look you right in the eye and wonder if you're the same bitch I used to believe had a perfect heart.Both of you...you sit separated by a meter as if you both have herpes. Even Siagaw noticed it. We laughed at you both; like night owls under a full moon. 
But that's besides the point. I really do hate you now.
I wonder who you hired? There are plenty of potential cunts with drilling sneers. Sneers bursting at the seams of fabricated grins. I smell its stench; reminds me of the morgue where I pissed in the mouths of people who were "important" to you. That was after I figured you were employing people to fuel your psychotic career, though. You even took Gib from me. I thought he was cool with me... but not anymore. Even Aiafs is reluctant to share herself. She decorates her blurred words with half-assed half smiles and hugs me with tired muscle.
Damn, bitch... where did you get your strychnine from? Even so, that's not your modus-operandi. You are a manipulator, after all. A sociopath who spikes coffee and vodka with liquid bullshit, who looks people in the eye and says, "Alpris is messed up." And they will believe you, because you apparently have a certificate with your name on it that says you are an authorized and fully qualified person-scanner.  That must be the trend nowadays; I wouldn't know. All I know is that Ted Bundy would have a field day with you. He liked his whores dead while he screwed them.