Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. So you’re my ex, huh? You’re the person I’ve been obsessively constructing imagined conversations with where I regularly and soundly eviscerate the position I’ve made you take knowing that it’s flawed and not something you would have ever said in real life. Can you even name three times I delivered the perfect comeback while you just stand reflecting on what a mistake you made leaving me?
Of course you can’t! It’s ridiculous that you would even claim that you’re my ex and that you’re only talking to me now because “you’re worried for my mental health.” Well, that’s not what you said the other day when I imagined that I successfully convinced you that I’m the best thing that ever happened to you and all your friends are just out to get me. And that’s not even a deep cut, you’re pathetic.
Sure, you claim I’ve been leaving you non-stop voicemails and occasionally mailing dead cats to your sister’s house, but if you were really my ex then you’d know that our breakup was totally mutual and also that I am hot and good at sex. Also, the cats weren’t dead when I put them in the mail so tell Beth she can blame the post office for that one.
Like do you even know how stupid you sound? You actually tell me that you’re my ex but then can’t name one time I’ve destroyed your argument that I’m “acting irrationally” and instead made you understand that selling all of your grandmother’s jewelry to invest in NFTs was the smartest thing I’ve ever done.
And yes, I do see that you have a box full of shirts that I left at your place with you, but just cause you’ve got some merch doesn’t prove that we were ever in a relationship. And I’m sure I’ll be able to convince you of that as well — I just need a few days to think about it from every angle first, manipulate every aspect and construct a straw man position for you which I can easily tear apart.