I absolutely hate what you did to me.

And the more I think about it, the more it downright infuriates me.

What did you think you were doing?
How did you think this would end?
And how can you stand there and act like nothing ever happened between us?
Like we have no history?

Every time you look at me,
every glance
every stare
every time I look away too quickly,
It kills me.
It’s like your eyes are trying to convince me that it wasn’t real
it never happened
it meant nothing.
They tell me that I’m wrong
That I misunderstood
That I should forget.

When you walk by me,
and your shoulder brushes me
or your elbow
or your hand,
or you smile at me,
or give me false hope,
you confuse the shit out of me.

What the hell am I supposed to think?

I hate myself for telling you as much as I did.
For giving myself away so easily
to someone who didn’t deserve the slightest bit of me.

All that time we wasted, it could’ve been spent so differently.
But you’re right,
it meant nothing.