But It's the Truth

I'm sorry that I hate you. I tried not to, but you're such a bitch that I can't help myself. You are so full of yourself that you ought to explode from the pressure. In fact, I wish you would. You are SO not that hot. Everyone is sick to death of your constant bragging about things nobody cares about. You have a job. You have a man. You have the best this and the best that, better than what any of US have. So fucking what! Do you think we care? Do you care what WE have? NO. All you can do is talk about YOU. All you CARE about is YOU. Why won't I come to your STUPID party? D'uh. You're a fucking fake bitch who can't be bothered to come to MY parties. You always have "things to do." Everyone has to come to YOUR parties though, because YOUR parties are centered around YOU. Whatever. I'm not the only one who hates you, but I'm the only one who will tell you that I do. I'm sorry that I can't like you, K. If only you were real and not a fake bitch then I probably could like you. But...huh. You can't be real. You're fake to the bone, and everyone knows it. YOU probably even know it. You obviously think we hate you because we're jealous, but that's not it. It's because YOU ARE A FAKE BITCH. You can't have real friends if YOU aren't real. You fail at life. Sorry, but it's the truth.