the break-up .

Dear Pasadena,

are you serious ? you cant be , you're a joke .

Sincerely Yours,

Stevi Renee .

P.S. . .

You're a pain in my side most days . Overflowing with drama, baby mamas, 'blood this, blood that', drama, smokin', drama, glamour-wannabees, and i hope i didn't forget to mention drama ? To put it simply, your cup run'eth over with insignificance . You're a trap . You're that girl who says she's on the pill and turns around a month later with a baby name book, grinning . You are a trap . Too small for us to grow, but just big enough to make us think we are . You're not quite South Central, but not lame enough to be Monrovia .

You follow me around like that 'mother flow' lady in all the tampon commercials . You're a tick that sucks the humanity out of me . Your air is filled with fist fights, club nights, gossip, and whoregobblin-minions ... i hold my breath, trying not to let it in . but what's the alternative ? suffocation ? That's why i never see you anymore . That's why i can't stand to be around you . Consider this my dear john letter ...dear jack, daniel, bob, billy or whatever you call yourself these days (cause you know you fake) . I think we should see other people .


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