When you first showed up with her at that party everybody was like, yeah, okay, she’s cute but we could all see from a mile away that she had the crazy in her eyes. We get it. She made you feeeeel something. You were dead before and she filled you with fantasies about patriotism and prairies and fucking on a bedspread made from the American flag. She came in winking and shooting things and stirring up shit and everybody pretended they didn’t know how the fist-fight started or why the cops were here. But we could all feel it, a cold breeze, a violent gust of wind just before the hurricane.
This is going to end with a restraining order and her doing all your buddies.
We’ve all been in love with a sociopath once or twice but I’m telling you man, until you cut her loose, you’re living in a world of pain. And we have to sit here and listen to you cry, trying not to say “I told you so.”