I don’t want your dry used up conversation. I want to fucking know what secret little words you were keeping away from me.
But I don’t blame HER, I blame YOU.
In the end I fucking hate you, I fucking hate you for breathing.
Fuck you, I’m not another one of your goddamn victims. I’m a fucking human, WITH FEELINGS.
I know you fucking clearly lack those, but try to fucking remember people own them.
And yeah, maybe I fucked up, maybe I fucked up hard somewhere along the line. But you know the fucking sad part is I gave you apart of myself that I didn’t EVER give to anyone else.
But I fucking sat there, pleading, PLEADING with you.
I didn’t give a shit who fucking loved you in the past.
But you couldn’t trust me, could you?
You’re fucking pathetic.
But you were constantly bringing me down. And you know what’s even more pathetic? I took it. Thinking I must have done something to deserve this shit. No Fuck you.
‘Probably cause you’re not fucking eating, thinking your boyfriend is better than me and that he’ll somehow save you from this. He won’t.’
How could anyone ever save me from you? You were fucking eating away at my soul.
I thought your aggression was fucking affection. Another fight? Must mean he loves me.
“He makes you cry”
“He loves me, he just doesn’t understand”
All the fucking excuses I ever made for you.
I thought I could convince myself that I’m over you. But I’m still like a lost fucking puppy looking for her owner.
Because you made me the perfect submissive, didn’t you?
‘Depressed little baby.’