You told me things would be the same when I moved into your household. You promised that we would still be friends. You lied.

You proceeded in the following months to turn me down EVERY time I asked to hang out. I asked you to go see a musical with me. You turned me down and went back to your desktop. You then proceeded to ask a different friend to go with you the next day. The pattern has repeated itself across time and activities. I wish I could take back every invitation.

I wish I could get back all the time I wasted on you. I wish I could swallow the words I puked out at you. I would gladly swallow the words of love knowing it’s barf.

You think you’re a nice guy. But you’ve embarrassed me in front of guests—made it clear that I don’t have the rights you do. It is easier for you to make space for physical possessions you haven’t even looked at in years—than it is for you to make room for me.

The joke is on you. Thanks for the notice, but I wouldn’t live in a place you own for the lowest rent. Also, good luck purchasing a home when you spend all your money on Disneyland. You overweight man-child.