I kept your dark secrets.

The pain you inflicted. Thoughts of rape, murder. Deviance.

I loved you anyway, and for the love of god I can't figure out why.

I guess I felt special. You were cruel to everyone, except ME. You made everyone cry, except ME. No one could understand you, except ME. I was vital, singular. My ego was on top of the world.

I remember when the thought of me in pain broke you. That feels like a different time, a different life. A dream.

You're harsh. You don't care about the people you've made cry. Now I am one of those people.

I used to be separate. Treasured. Unique.

I'm just another stupid girl. Another thing you used up, got bored with, surpassed.

Like an empty acrylic tube. The color is gone.

Why did you ever love me?

Because I was so fucking much like you?

Is that why we're through, because I became a better person? Because I improved myself and you were too weak to?

I was going through a selfish asshole phase when I met you. Maybe you helped me justify it. We were so alike for so long, but with you, it wasn't a phase.

I thought maybe it would help to write out the fucked up things you did, so I can look at it and remember why I don't love you anymore (or that I'm trying not to, I'm never sure which):

- Great love of violence.

- General disregard for the well-being of people you consider beneath you (thought that comes couple with this bizarre, almost passionate concern for people you actually approve of).

- The way you got mad when I wouldn't have sex with you, even when I'd just walked in the door. If I kissed you and touched you I was being a slutty tease and you felt I was obligated to let you fuck me. You never appreciated the foreplay.

- Utter lack of effort in terms of ever improving our relationship. I honestly don't think you ever tried ONCE. I don't think you ever told me, hey, can you stop doing this? Whereas I, you know, actually wanted to make things better.

- You were lazy in the stupidest ways. Yeah, the door was open, but did you really have to stay in bed right up until I got there? Did you really need to sleep in until one in the afternoon? Was it so fucking hard to get up and answer the goddamn door? I should've left all those times. I shouldn't have put up with your fucking bullshit.

- You were content having me drive you around for the last year. You never once thought it might be good to get your fucking license just to give me a break. You were fine with having your parents throw more money into that driving school because you couldn't be bothered to fucking get your shit together or wake up on time to go to driver's training.

- In fact, I don't think you ever did a damned thing purely to benefit me, at least not without me first planting the idea in your head. I can only remember a handful of times you surprised me with anything, and it was all material. You never thought, hey, maybe I'm being an asshole, maybe I should change! No, I always had to instigate everything.

- You allowed me to treat you as my entire universe. I realize I should've been smart enough not to do this, but you never told me, hey, you should make more friends. It would've been good to hear. I'm sorry I'm human and I obsess about things.

- I know for a fact you got pissed at stuff I did, but you'd never admit to it. For being as harsh as you inherently are I'm shocked you couldn't just man the fuck up and tell me what to do. You could've said, stop being so fucking insecure, stop clinging, go out and make friends, improve your life, god damn it. You never did. You were content to watch me cling and wallow and destroy everything from the inside out. You know why? Because it fed your fucking ego, you asshole.

- Every time I fucked up (flirting, etc.) I came clean. I felt terrible. And after that, I was loyal. Nothing too serious ever happened; most of it could be pinned to the fact that I had so much goddamn baggage from Marc when I started dating you. That was a HUGE problem and you never treated it like one, at least not to my face. But you...you never came clean. I always had to find out on my own. I always had to do a little detective work. Yeah, it was fucking shitty and immature and assholeish to log into your facebook/myspace, BUT EVERY SINGLE TIME I FOUND EVIDENCE. Always the blondes, jesus christ. Like I said before, Katelyn, Roxy, then Kristian. And you had the nerve to be angry at me for being upset? You had the nerve to be FURIOUS with me for accusing you of something you very obviously did? You had the nerve to be enraged that I would stoop so low as to invade your privacy, even though every fucking time it turned out I had good reason? I'M NOT STUPID. I knew when you dumped me you were lying about something huge, and then I find that fucking message. "I have become infatuated with you as well" - shut the fuck up. You think I didn't have infatuations when we were dating? I FUCKING DID. GUESS WHAT. I ALMOST FUCKED A COUPLE OF PEOPLE. I REALLY WANTED TO. BUT I DIDN'T. BECAUSE I LOVED YOU. BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU WERE WORTH STAYING WITH. BECAUSE I BELIEVED IN US.

- You always justified all the fucked up stupid things you did. You were level-headed during arguments, and you conceded a lot, but it wasn't sincere. In your head, I know, you always thought you were right. BECAUSE YOU NEVER CHAGNED. You have not changed for the better in a single way in the past two years. That means you don't see a problem with your behavior. And god, that pisses me off so fucking much.

- You are a child. I may be insecure, clingy, needy, and occasionally petty, but you are a child. What you want is what you want is what you want and fuck anyone who gets in the way.

- Oh how you sweet talked me. You fucked me right up until a couple days before when you full-well knew your feelings for gone, you lying asshole. That message I found from her was from very early June, and from all I know it could've been going on before that. And, "you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, Samantha, and I love you more than anyone else in the world." WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT? HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT TO SOMEONE YOU NO LONGER GIVE A SHIT ABOUT, HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT TO SOMEONE YOU'RE FUCKING CHEATING ON?

- I'm going to go back to the point that you're just an asshole, plain and straight, because even when I confronted you with that message you had the gall to scream at me for what I'd done instead of just being a decent human being and taking some fucking responsibility for your actions. You lied about THE ONE THING I ASKED YOU NEVER TO LIE ABOUT, THE ONE MOTHERFUCKING THING, AND THEN LIED ABOUT LYING!

- Because it's always someone else's fault, isn't it? Yes, of course, it's never something YOU did. Even when you take the blame, you're only pretending to take it just so the situation will die. Of course it was your parents' fault that you decided to play video games and do nothing instead of doing homework and studying, consequently failing your classes. Of course. And of course it was my fault that you got bored and resorted to fucking some tragically average plain-Jane who you know is young and naive enough to worship the ground you shit on until you destroy her heart without a single moment of hesitation.

After all of this, all of, why do I still care about you at all?

After all of this, why can I still not feel the adrenaline of rage flooding my veins?

I just can't be as angry as I want to be, as I know I should be. This all came out at once and my fingers feel funny for going so fast but I'm still not incensed. Not even close.

God, I don't know why. I don't know why I've been cursed with this inability to feel the hatred your actions merit.

I told myself I wasn't going to hate you, but I'm wondering if that wouldn't make all of this easier.

You just...you always want some girl who's having problems with someone else, it seems. You talk to all these girls about their fucking stupid meathead boyfriends and hold their hands (maybe not even metaphorically anymore) through the entire goddamn situation. And they're so beautiful, they're so broken and fragile and vulnerable, and they're just begging for a savior, and you've come riding in with your indie music and your intelligent words and your distracting banter and they fall. Hard. And you fall too, because how could you not? You're saving these girls. You are a god to them. Your ego practically explodes. And you want them, you want them so much even as they're entangled with someone else, and eventually when you win in every sense of the world and that other guy loses you're feeling like hot shit.

But that doesn't last forever, does it? Because eventually that delicate little flower becomes a weed to you. She's still insecure and scared, but now she's clinging to you. There's no other guy to save (or is it steal?) her from. You're her world. And you can't handle that, because where's the fun in it? Where's the challenge? No, it's too easy. Too easy to make things comfortable. There's no chase, no adrenaline, no doubt, no excitement. And then she just starts to fade. She's not interesting, because she's too available.

But she likes you talking to other girls about their problems, doesn't she? It's just reinforcing the sweet, sensitive guy persona. And she's so special that you won't stray - she knows this. She is totally confident that you won't leave her, because you've made her feel so important, so amazing that she doesn't think you could possibly find anyone better. In fact, what she's actually afraid of is that she will leave YOU, because it just seems so much more likely. It's because you have no other friends and she thinks she's your universe as much as you are hers. But she's wrong.

You find someone damaged. You start to fix her. The feeling is addicting. You can't stop. And combined with the lackluster relationship you've got at home, it's just enough to push you over the edge. You admit your feelings. She returns them. There you go, you've got that forbidden, ego-pumping excitement back. You've bought a brand new horse right before sending the other one to the glue factory.

You use her for sex first, though. Because you feel a little guilty and also because you can. You've got an entree, yes, but why ignore the side dish? You fuck her right up until the end. It's only when she starts to suspect, even subconsciously, that you decide you really have to leave. She's getting annoying, you know. Insecure. You don't want her to know. It's better if she doesn't. You don't want a drama bomb. You just want to be happy with the new girl.

And, god, why should you care about the old girl anyways? She's pathetic. She's old news. You've worn her out. She's like a shoe that's too small for you and out of style anyways. Sure, you had some good times, and you'll probably still care about her, you guess, but she'll get over it. And thus the guilt is lifted from your shoulders.

You call because you're a fucking pussy. It's the best way, you tell yourself, because there won't be a scene, and she won't have to face the drive home. There you go again, rationalizing to preserve your precious, precious ego. It ALL centers around your ego, doesn't it? Of course it does. There is nothing more important. Literally nothing.

She finds out. Sneaking, stooping, disrespectful little bitch. You expected better, you really did. How dare she invade your privacy? This is bullshit. Well, so she knows now, so what? You don't care about her. Let her be angry. Doesn't matter. You're driving a newer and shinier model. Doesn't matter if the old one sits in its driveway or goes to the junkyard. It is no longer your responsibility.

I bet you feel pretty good. You threw away the old ball and chain and you've got a younger, leaner, stupider orifice to play with until you get to go on your merry way to college in September. Man, talk about living the life. That's fucking paradise. Zero responsibility AND an ego the size of the sun? Doesn't get any better than that.