I hate you.

Physically. The thought of you actually makes me angry. The sight of you makes me want to scream.

I don't know why I ever believed you were half decent. God knows enough people told me otherwise.

I should have shouted at you more. But it just felt like there was nothing left to say. Nothing worth my time saying. You're not worth my time any more.

I'm not mourning the end of 'us'. Not at all. I certainly lost any feelings I had for you a long time ago. I think I knew we weren't going to work out anyway. It's ironic that the thing you said were thinking about me was exactly what was going through my mind about you. Hell, I even wrote it on here. I should tell you that. The reason I hate you is because of who you are and how you've handled this entire situation.

You were hard to finally get to face me. I'm glad we had that conversation. Finally. It feels like I can properly put you behind me now. I'm glad I was able to make you aware of my biggest problem with the way the situation panned out. I'm glad you had some remorse for it. And I'm glad I got you to admit somewhat how much of a complete idiot you have been; despite how much I had to drag it out of you, away from your numerous excuses and bullshit.

The main reason I hate you so much is because I just can't stand the thought that you get away with treating people like this so much. Because it's not just me. And you say you've changed, but you know as well as everyone else that you haven't. It's another one of your lies to cover yourself up.

One day it's going to come back to you. And I really hope I get a ringside seat to watch.


I hope you die alone in a very deep hole.

The worst part about this fucked up situation is that I actually still miss you.

I can say all I want, but even though you've been a complete prick to me and don't even think I'm worthy of a conversation, when I think about us being together it still makes me happy. Some of our conversations still make me feel good. 

And that makes me feel like shit, because after all that you left me so quickly. Right now, seeing you is so hard because I'm torn between the side of me that genuinely wants to spit at you at the sight of your face, and the other side of me that remembers how good it was when we were 'us'.

Why the hell did you have to fuck with my head like this?

I don't think there's anything left in me.

Not to care about you. It's all gone. Leaked out of the cracks you made.

I'm not going to pretend it wasn't a little painful when you didn't deny moving on so fast, but it was exactly what I thought. And if nothing else, this entire thing has proved that I'm quite often right in my hunches about you, right?

Seeing you didn't make me feel anything again. Just got annoyed by your face. It's a good sign in terms of me moving on. I'm just angry at you for acting like a prick about this whole thing.

Tomorrow will show, I guess. We'll find out exactly how much bullshit you're prepared to spew. No way am I making it easy for you.