Dear youngin’ who’s cradle I’ve robbed
The funny thing is that after hanging out with you for an extended period of time… and I mean really, did you have to stay for 2 freakin weeks?!… I’ve realized that the only kind of relationship with you I can have is over text. It limits you. Trust me, that’s a good thing… cause you talk way too damn much. Your love of stupid cliches makes me wanna bite my wrists open. I’m sorry, you’re young, and it just wouldn’t work out. Sorry I robbed your cradle.
It feels almost as good as going postal, but without the inconvenient prison sentence.
