They say, “let’s be friends” as though we haven’t considered the option in one of ten thousand scenarios played out during the countless hours of sleep we’re not getting.

They say it so easily, with no more effort than it would take someone to blink. Of course they want to be friends, keep us at arm’s length and enjoy the benefits of our charms without taking on any of the baggage. Of course they want to be the heroes saving us from oblivion- and beyond. They’ve already removed themselves from the situation so they can avoid getting dragged into the undercurrent of all these bullshit feelings. But no one feels closer to the nuclear meltdown than the people giving birth to babies with two heads. So here’s my two-headed freak:

Fuck your friendship. Fuck the warm cozy images you played in your head that made you say it out loud. Fuck your hectic schedule and the way your mother doubted me because I wasn’t Muslim. Fuck your phone call. Fuck the pictures you drew of me as a lobster. Fuck your blasé attitude. Fuck the way your picture shows up under the headline, “[your name] will miss you,” when I deactivated my Facebook. Fuck your 2 a.m. text message that finally replied to the one I sent at 11. Fuck your feelings. Fuck your lack of them for me.

Fuck you.