Hey Jude.

Hey Jude,
You are indeed making it bad. At first, I thought we would get along, I really did. So when I saw my name in lights, why, I was actually quite pleased with myself. For once, I had not been screwed over by fate. Now, don't flatter yourself, I never for a second wanted us to meet. But hey, what was I to do? It was either that or waste my inheritance on an even more annoying saintly bloke. And God knows, I didn't want another fellow like old Jimbo. So you it was, Jude. Nowhere outside I could go. I couldn't run away from it all so I made do. With you.

And I gave it a shot, I really really did. Heck, I'm still giving it a shot. But Jesus, I really can't take it anymore, Jude. You and I were never ever meant to be. It's just this cruel twist of fate, that's all. I mean, yeah, you're really chilled about everything, don't give much of a crap if I'm not punctual, or I come late, or just not show up at all, and plus you've protected me from any assault or embarrassment of any sort, but it's not enough, Jude, it just isn't. Fact is, all your merits considered, you have nothing to offer me. And the obstinate, hard-to-satisfy arsehole that I am, I never will try hard enough to get used to all your shortcomings. Perhaps the only
thing I can thank you for is that you've saved me from that bloke I was talking about and I have to listen to less drivel from those people that conceived me. But at what cost? You take up all my time, you leave me with a splitting migraine most of the days, you burden me with work that'll help only for a year (hopefully) and you leave me in no shape to create games, to write, to play music, to get work done that will help in the long run. No. I've lost control. I'm desperately struggling to grab onto something to pull myself back up. But damn it, Jude, you're making it so bad.

The least you could have done is to have amongst yourself some people I could get with. The people I didn't know from beginning, most, I don't really want to know either. And that's where the ennui comes in and boy, does it rip my brains out and have a right-old trample about with it. Fine, I will concede that there are decent people, and some I wouldn't mind having a chat about with, but that
number is certainly in the minority. About 5 in a group of 50 I'd say.

Blimey, then there's the food. Or rather the place where you make it edible. Could you have found a place dirtier? Wasn't there any other nook and cranny more revolting than the drains you fry your foods by? And finally, the things I enjoy doing you take it and place it at a time, in which I can't enjoy them. For by then, the ennui has already left me dead and longing for home. Damn you, Jude, damn you straight to hell.

In the end, I suppose you could say I'm being a right dick. I complain too much, I need too much to satisfy myself, and I'm probably not deserving of the demands I crave. But shag me twice, I needed to vent out and I have. Let's face it, the problem is mine. Most people who know you, love you to bits and would be very sad to depart from you. But for me personally, hopefully the last time we meet isn't far. Hopefully, 4 months hence, I'll be certified of our last dance. Till then I hope and pray that that day is not far when I'll be able to say,
Ma na na na na na
Hey Hey Hey (Jude)
Good-fucking-bye.