It's staring me right in the face and I don't like the look in its eyes. I really hate me. Hate. I'm the weakest, filthiest, most dependent person I have ever met. My pride has been flattened and trampled into the mud, and I still don't want to take responsibility for it. I don't want to talk about it. When I open my mouth to describe it, I want to vomit. I start crying the minute I even think about uttering a syllable. I don't like losing my self-control, so I don't let myself. I can't talk about it to my parents, my best friends, my cat. Why would I ever be able to discuss it with a complete stranger? Ever? Why does the bile climb into my throat when I imagine him being happy without me? I hate the fact that he can be happy. I hate it. I'm selfish. I want him to be in as much agony as I feel even thinking about it. I don't want to be with anyone else. I don't want to. I won't. It's unhealthy, but I don't fucking care if it's unhealthy. It's not fair. IT'S NOT FAIR.I don't want to get better because that means I have to forget him... and frankly, I'd rather be a mental catastrophe.
