If You Can’t Handle Me At My Worst, You Don’t Deserve To See Me Turn Into A Crocodile

Saltwater_crocodile

I gave you another chance, and you blew it like you always do. It’s the same shit, over and over, Mark. And I’m kind of sick of it. I need a partner. I need someone who’s going to be there for me during tough times and you just haven’t stepped up. I’ve been having a really difficult time lately. A really difficult time. And I admit that I’ve been pretty hard to deal with. I’ll give you that. But you tell me that you love me so much and then you’re gone when I need you the most. I just need to be honest with you. If you keep this up, you’ll never get to see me transform into a crocodile.

The shedding season is nearly here. Do you sense the blooming of my scales, Mark? Of course you don’t. All you sense is that pretty waitress down at Rory’s Pub. You couldn’t be bothered to even if I asked you a hundred times. Read the calendar, Mark. The Star Wars calendar that I got for you because you love Star Wars so much. I marked down the day that the transformation process was to begin, and you haven’t even said anything. I deserve to be in a relationship with a person that wants to see the reborn cries of something unique and prehistoric. Not someone that wants to play PS4 all day.

It’s going to be really fucking cool when I take on the form of the heaviest known reptile in the world. And I wish that you could be there to appreciate it. Remember when we first started dating, and you asked me what I wanted most in life? I said “Someone to love me, and someone that will be there to view the next step in mankind’s evolutionary process.” Do you remember what YOU said? I’m waiting. No, of course you don’t. We were so happy back then, and now it seems like I don’t even recognize you anymore. You told me that you wanted to start your own business and then did nothing with that. I’m about to be able to hold my breath underwater for thirty minutes. And you haven’t had a job in the past two years. We’re just changing at different rates.

I don’t want to break up, but I feel like we have to. I’m sorry, Mark. My bite force will be 3,700 pounds per square inch and you’ll never get to see it. I’ll be swimming and hunting in the estuaries of Northern Australia, and you’ll be here, probably playing more video games and texting your ex-girlfriend again.  Who gets multiple texts at 4 AM? You’re gonna have to find a better method of keeping secrets than just tilting your phone away from me whenever I come near you.

I want your stuff moved out of here by the end of the month. I need to go pick up some raw chicken and a medium-sized inflatable pool to practice my lunging in. We really could’ve had something, Mark. Turning into a saltwater crocodile is an experience that I wanted to share with you. But I know that I’m strong enough to do it alone.

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