It’s an overcast day and I’ve been drinking with my roommates talking about how we’re all failed writers.

I keep reading this blog I really shouldn’t.

Has anyone else ever thought that relationships are fake?

Like you say the same fucking lines to each person you’re with and pretend that you didn’t say it to the same person before. Slowly perfecting each line every time you say it and then you break up.

I used to date a girl named Daddy Issues.

She kept telling me she loved her father until one day she broke down crying (she cried for a year) about how he’d never accept her. I told her that I always thought her father was an asshole and that he didn’t appreciate her. She thanked me for telling her what I thought and that maybe she should re-evaluate her relationship with him.

Daddy Issues didn’t know what to write about for her thesis and I told her to write about her father. She ended up winning a bunch of money and didn’t say thanks for giving her the inspiration. Now Daddy Issues bashes Chicago and claims that she lived there when she never really went through starving and she never really wore thrift store clothes because everything she owned fell apart. Daddy Issues is a still a daddy’s girl. I wonder if she’s going to show her father the essay that won her all that money. Ironically enough she told me to write about my father and I got the story published in a nationally distributed lit-journal. I didn’t get any money and at this point the lit-journal has probably fallen apart due to lack of funds.

And she thinks she knows what it’s like to be a writer.

If you read her blog and replace the new boy with my name the posts are exactly the same. 

Do you think she knows what it really means?