Dear life,

You don’t need to be mother fucking Sigmund Freud to know that this mother fucker is mentally ill.

Oh Vaughn, you silly negro! Trust me, I would’ve forgotten you if you didn’t get in contact with me.

But if you’re gonna contact me, say something other than “I was thinking of you”. What the fuck is that shit?

Why were you thinking of me? Why did you think of me enough to message me on Instagram? What drove you?

Obviously it was a mistake before it was even sent. Weird.

You remind me of a personality kind of like Eric’s except 1000% worse.

Ok, so Vaughn would let things happen, like bad things (that I wasn’t even aware of at all) and later would tell everything. Like how he felt and shit.

Ugh, maybe I’m going to have to actually explain this in full for it to make sense….

Ugh…. ok, so one time I was in New Paltz doing MDMA (as usual) this was in like 2012 or 2013 or something, long time ago.

I ran into Vaughn and his brother Jordan. Jordan was very attractive. He was hitting on me and told me how beautiful he thought I was. I was on molly so I didn’t give a fuck. I just wanted to have sex.

So Jordan and I hooked up….

This wasn’t an issue until fucking Vaughn told me how upset he was that I had slept with his brother. How long he’s had a crush on me. How much he loved my personality because I didn’t give a fuck, I would just tell you how I felt.

Ugh. It was bad. I knew that this couldn’t really be anything. Maybe if he told me before I had this unnecessary one night stand, I wouldn’t have done it.

Well, after that, it took a long time for me to tell him that this wasn’t gonna work. Especially because I was getting fucked up and shit. I actually think this was in 2011. Whatever, my concept of time has been fucked. Good thing those holes I put in my brain didn’t permanently damage my learning centers lol.

Anyway, we couldn’t talk anymore. It would be a fight every time. I would offend his ass every time.

I haven’t talked to him in about 3 years. I think the last time I talked to him, I was taking precalculus. He is an accountant by trade so I would ask him about math and shit.

Well, whatever. He just popped out of nowhere, so I thought I should tell the tale.

There it is. I am an asshole.

Paul Daley

God, your accent is sexy. Your body is sexy. You are sexy… but stop with the fucking wrestling bro.

Your stand up is amazing. You’re a fucking knockout artist. Don’t wrestle. Ever.

He could be welterweight champ for Bellator if he didn’t wrestle.

I just like to watch him talk, honestly. Without a shirt preferably.