You're really not worth my time but I'll indulge you briefly. First, I'm not your sweetie. You want to talk about my look when you look like a weird short haired Eric Andre with an ugly mole on your neck. You dress like someone threw up on you at a Goodwill store. Lack luster personality, that's all you piglet. Your tales of woe and being bullied as a kid. You probably deserved it and now you try so hard to be one of those bullies but you just don't have the chops for it. You hate that we're loved even when we're not supposed to be. It's the same shit you tried with Punk. Eventually you need to learn you're not all you think you are and whoever you come at will eat you alive and spit you out. So far everyone has. So cry about it Max, cry and no one will care. You do it to yourself, we barely have to say a word.
You're so worried about my looks and my style but sorry, I'm not into you. I like men or strong women, not little boys playing pretend. Pretend doesn't work for me. Originality? You mean you trying to be like Punk and failing. Who am I trying to me? I'll tell you, myself. You're just a little boy trying to make people think you're a man. That's why you can't keep a relationship. Call Allie Katch and tell her you're sorry. Tell Wheezy you're sorry, tell everyone you've done wrong or hit on that didn't want you that you're sorry. Atone for your wrongs because all you are is a child crying for attention right now. No wonder Kris doesn't really talk to you anymore. She's probably embarrassed at how you turned out. You're a pathetic waste of skin.
