You Want To Be “Sisters” After Trying To Kill Me?! F**k You, You Fat Loser B*tch!

You tried to kill me for seventeen years. Seventeen years I was afraid to be alone with you. I had to go to the neighbor’s house when our parents weren’t home because you chased me around throwing knives and forks at me. You would just randomly hit me or beat me up because my weight embarrassed you.  You let all of your friends throw sh*t at me and call me names. Now all of a sudden you want to call me your “sister” and be a family.  I can’t even stand to look at you, let alone be around you.  You’re two-faced and starving for attention.

You always tried to get my boyfriends to flirt with you or sleep with you. You refuse to let your friendzoned friends get girlfriends. God forbid if someone isn’t pouring their heart and soul out to you at all times. Who’s laughing now? Me of course. Because you gained weight, and you now weigh more than I ever did. Your boyfriend’s a deadbeat alcoholic loser that you’re stuck with because you refuse to move back home at age thirty-three. I wanted to be like you when I was little. Strong and independent. I’ve come to realize that you’re just a stuck-up b*tch who will never see life past the tip of her nose.

image- emilio labrador