You know why people who say that Romeo and Juliet is super romantic kind of tick me off? Because it was a play about these two kids who fell in love – only about seven people died at the end, including the two lovers. But everyone seems to overlook that fact, simply because they had an 'epic romance'.
If Bella had evolved and spent less time crying about Edward and more time finding a personality, maybe I'd like Twilight a little more. Oh, if only she could be a little more like Buffy. If only.
At first, I was really into you because of your perfect hair and sparkly skin, unblemished by acne scars and stuff, like a regular person. Over the years of our relationship however, I've discovered that you are not a regular person. And this is not a compliment.
First of all, the creeping and the stalking is not okay, no matter what the ideas of romance were back in your day.
And watching me from my window? As I sleep? Honestly, that's perverted, not to mention an invasion of privacy, dude. I could've legitimately gotten a restraining order for the creepy guy who watches me when I sleep. But I didn't – go figure. Plus, this whole relationship technically makes you a pedophile, since you're a hundred years old.
Second of all, when we first met, you wanted to eat me.
To EAT ME.
You even made an analogy where I was a lamb and you were a lion, an early sign that you were a self-righteous psychopath with an extremely loose idea of morals. I mean, you can't just corner someone in the woods and say that you could eat them. I mean, I guess you could eat me, but it's still rude. And somehow, I get over that.
Sure, you restrained yourself and tried to keep your distance, and I'll give you that, but later, you totally forgot those rules and did the exact OPPOSITE of what you said you'd do to the point of following my around in your car just in time to conveniently save me from frat boys. Wow.
Third of all? We bring out the worst in each other. I feed your ego with my relentless faith, and you don't let me stand up for myself, much less become independent. I subconsciously tried to kill myself just so I could talk to my own hallucinations of you! Great job. If you'd really wanted to keep me safe, you would have never involved a random, oh-so-inferior human in your world full of porcelain skin and bloodsucking sociopaths. Our oh-so-epic 'love story' inspired Fifty Shades of Gray, and we all know how that ended.
Badly. Seriously; like, a thousand people died by the end of our last book, and don't even get me started on poor Charlie.
If I'd just gone with Jacob Black, at least I'd keep my grip on reality, you know?
You're like a freaky, scary disco-ball. And a possessive one at that. Let me speak for myself, and make my own choices. Don't look at me like I'm a McDonald's cheeseburger you're going to devour for lunch. Talk to me like I'm a person, not an objectified girl who isn't capable of being independent.
And most importantly, NO MORE STALKING. Because seriously, that's messed up.
Your Former Girlfriend,
Buffy Summers folded the paper into a square and tucked it into the front pages of A Midsummer's Night Dream and set the book on the mantelpiece, on the off chance that Edward Cullen ever thought to read it.
"I'm doing this girl a favor," she repeated aloud. "Sorry, Ed."
And with that, the Slayer left, closing the door behind her.
~ end ~
This a parody, by the way, and I take full responsibility. So go ahead, flamers. Hit me with your best shot.