what the fuck

center of your world to non existent what the fuck do you think I'm made of puddy? something to mold the way you want til it gets too messy? or is it plastic? something to use and reuse until it loses its elasticity? or do you think I'm just disposable like a paper cup? what the fuck I understand there's complications, but you got to communicate not just practically cut me off. talking constantly to once a day for maybe 10 minutes... texting constantly to almost being ignored.. what the fuck you do you love me but your actions say differently like you're saying you're not shit to me is that how it's gotta be