I say it again. Goddammit - I was right, you messed me up and now I have scientific evidence to back me up. According to Cracked (arguably one of the best places to learn practical science in the history of forever), our breakup messed me up. Or in Agua Maldita logic, YOU messed me up.
I went into withdrawal, went more than a “tad bit” crazy, got poorer and lonelier for years after, and got sicker. Why bother dating new people when in the end, I’ll probably be batshit insane, penniless, depressed, dead from a broken heart or dying from cancer? (No, seriously, read the article.) Oh right, this. So yeah, I’m dead if I date and I’m dead if I don’t. Goddammit Universe.
PS. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. There are things called irony and exaggeration, you see, and I use them mainly for humor. Some people take everything I say and believe me to be thoroughly bitter and I can’t blame them because they were probably rendered numb by a humorless childhood. So there, I may or may not be bitter. Wait, what were we talking about again?
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