To Rolf, The Fool

You must think I get irrationally angry at times. And I do. But you're never going to figure out why I hate you, you blind fool.

You are always... so prepared to let pride come in the way of conscience. To let your stupid arguments take their toll on you. Just rushing headfirst into destruction, ignoring all warnings, and then passing on the blame so you don't have to face up to it.

Call me a sadist, I don't care, I'm a masochist already. Blame me. But I'll be gone soon enough, and I'm never letting myself come between you and the hole you have dug for yourself. I don't care if I get hurt, but I hate watching you destroy yourself, because there's nothing I can do to stop you- I don't get to decide what kind of person you are, and it enrages me.

It's sick actually. A punch in gut wouldn't make a difference, but watching you go hungry hurts. And you know it, thats why you do it.

And what do you do? You decide that I want you to be unhappy, for whatever reason that appeals to your twisted skull.
Over-reacting? Who do I think I am?
To be honest, it's a bad sign if you can't put life in perspective anyway. If you want proof, Rolf, all you have to do is wait. But I won't be around to say 'I told you so'.
Make your decisions now. I've tried and failed for too long. You never listen to what I say, you are incapable, it seems, of understanding the people closest to you.

So understand me clearly now. I will not clean your mess or cover for you. The choices before you are simple. You can understand the nature of three human beings you should have learnt of a long time ago, or you can keep living in the same kind of paranoia and become an ignorant victim of your own foolish pride before long. Why can't you be logical? Just- fucking understand when people tell you the truth to your face.

Soon enough, you won't have me to blame. Who are you going to point the finger at then?

Of course, you'll think that I'm lying. Because you are a fool, and for no other reason. What can I do about that? Nothing. It's unfair to expect you to grow a pair of eyes, isn't it?

It's a cruel joke that plays out.

Do I have to explain that as well? Probably, since you would choose not to figure it out if given half the chance.
You live in fear of deceivers and enemies, and monsters and ghosts, but the thing that will come closest to destroying you is the monster of your own making.

I'm not your worst enemy, I'm a distant second. The first is inside you. If you have decided to become that blind, self-serving creature, then I shall simply leave. But the day I stop fighting what I consider the worst in you will be the day I stop caring about you as a person, don't be too eager to rush to that conclusion.