pop off, okay.

shut up, for once. i'm sick of hearing your voice, your pitiful thoughts. can't you just leave me alone? like, seriously, you have no right to yell at my grandmother when she has stage four cancer, you fucking loon. leave her the hell alone, i might just, just break you. i don't care that you're old, i don't give a shit, okay? you yell at my grandmother about food she 'stole' from you, meanwhile you've been living in her house rent free, living off of her, you fucking leech. you terrorize her daily, to the point where she doesn't even want to be in her own living room anymore. get the fuck out. then, you complain that you don't feel welcomed? WELL, guess what bitch, you aren't.

you're sixty-fucking-seven, meanwhile, every time i talk to you, i feel like i'm dealing with someone with the maturity of a seven year old. you complain that i talk to you with no respect? you're right, because you don't deserve it. i don't give a shit.

then you leave your car carry on the fucking front yard, saying oh 'it'll only be there for a week.' three months later, it's still sitting there. so, instead of your husband, whose just waiting for you to die, so he can get that a 'million dollars' that you have fyi, that the bank owns, it isn't even your money. so, back to the story, i get sick of it, and i move it manually, yes, i didn't hook it up to car, or a bike, no i fucking pushed your car trailer off the yard, and onto the side of the road. took me all of fifteen minutes, so why hadn't your husband do it, huh? and i fucking pushed it, and he has a truck. fuck you. so, then you come out, when i have it right by the street, and yell at me, that your husband can't feel accomplished now? are you fucking kidding me? REALLYYYYYYYYYYY?

when was he going to do it? now, three weeks later, which you had the to move the trailer, now the town comes and tows it away. and, you glare at me, like i'm the devil or something. it's not my fault, that you took the plates off it, the day i moved it, because you're a spiteful bitch. then, you come down screaming and yelling, how my mother, who is out at a thing, who doesn't have a cell phone, called the town? oh, let's not even get started on how many times you complained that it was stolen. yes, bitch, people steal things like car trailers in the daylight, makes sense. especially, in this little shit hole of a town, where police are swarming everywhere? where crime doesn't even exist?

and don't even get me started on that bird, that you let fly around, swarm in my grandmother's side of the house, and accuse us of trying to kill? because, apparently it's the reincarnation of your son, who died, because of you, but i'll never say to you that i think that. but, it was your fault he got behind the wheel, at fifteen, and drove into a pole. but whatever. then, you go so far as to try and accuse my step-father for the death of your son? are you fucking mad? YOU'RE A LOON, you didn't even know him when your son died, fifteen bloody years ago. you let that fucking thing hump your ponytail and shit.

you never bathe.

I'M SO SICK OF YOU. GET THE FUCK OUT, I HATE YOU SO MUCH. I NEVER EVER WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOU AGAIN, PLEASE. GTFO, I'M SO TEMPTED TO MOVE ALL YOUR SHIT TO THE STREET, AND KICK YOU OUT MYSELF.

don't you ever fucking yell at my grandmother with stage four cancer again, because i swear, i'm at the point, where i'm going to explode. and i'm not even an angry person. i've been through too much shit in my life, to deal with you.

so, in the words of my friend from texas, pop off.

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