It’s a shame that grown men have reduced themselves to mere rubble over matters that hold no real importance in our day-to-day lives. A shame that something so inconsequential will be the divide of what appeared to be something truly magnificent in the story of our lives. A shame that the story can continue on without the people that surely fill its pages with memorable events and experiences, making for a life more full of joy and contentment. A damn shame.

Drama is the fabric that makes the story more interesting, but we can go on without this pitiable example of the word. The results were destructive, causing noble people to turn their backs and spew insidious remarks over mere miscommunication, misinterpretation, and with plenty of misspellings [goddamnit, Webster’s is online, can’t you look up a word?]. No single party is innocent, for this back stabbing and back talking has been prevalent since I’ve set foot back in this city.

Gentleman, this is unacceptable. I’m watching, right before my eyes, friendships crumble apart without a true cause that makes it redeemable. I’m watching immovable egos clash and a war of words take its toll over something so feeble I question why I attempt to keep the bond collected.