Remember that time I moved to Portland because I like fucking loved you and stuff?
Remember when everything was kind of perfect?
Remember when you stopped kissing me goodbye in the morning because you were "running late" but you weren't leaving in a rush you were taking Instagram photos of yourself in your outfits in the front yard for ten minutes to stroke your own ego instead?
Remember when you not so subtly decided it was better from behind, probably because you didn't have to look at me any more that way?
I fucking do.
Remember when I couldn't find a job and you dumped me because where I was wasn't where you wanted to be and I had to move back home?
I fucking remember that shit.
Have a nice day.
Happy fucking Birthday.