Go Fuck Yourself, De La Rosa; the end.

I gave my last fuck about you, yesterday; it's unfortunate you were unavailable to take advantage of it. My rejected vagina does not forget. She does not open for boys who ignore her and if I'm not having sex with you, you no longer serve a purpose in my life other than frustration. I have no use for further frustration in my life. When you made me feel the same way I felt with Andrew I knew that it was time to stop, look around, and realize the road with you is not the road for me. I promised myself that I would never let another man fuck my shit up like that and yet here you were, fucking my shit up like that. And what kind of person am I if I can not even keep an important promise I made with myself; a compromise for coming back home, to a place I swore up and down I would never return to. Upon coming back here I promised myself to make things different for me. I promised that I would find a man who was nothing less than crazy about me. I promised myself that I would not yearn for anything or any person who did not 100% want me. What's the point? There are 7 billion people in this world. Why on earth should I sit around and let one more of you fuck my shit up? There is no longer anything in it for me. I get that she hurt you. I get that you have to heal from that. But, quite frankly, it's not my problem. It's no excuse to do that to another person, a person who could have loved you like no one else. So you will go your own way now, with out me. Because you no longer hold a place in my heart. The minute I felt the way I felt when I was with Andrew I knew for certain that you are not a good idea and I have officially been given what I need to close my heart to you. Please don't call me, don't text me, don't friend request me or come by here when there is a chance I might be here. I never want to see you again. I never want to hear your voice or have any indication that we are even within range of each other. You do not respect me enough to have a place in my life and I am done. You broke me last night. And there was not much left to break. I no longer want anything to do with my type. My type sucks.