You're killing me
1:35 p.m.

You did this to me over 15 years ago and now... you're doing it to me again. Her name might as well be Kelly. She's just as much of a tease and just as much of a heartless bitch when it comes to another woman's feelings for the man she loves. But I can't blame it all on her. <b>You're</b> the one searching... searching... searching... for someone or something new, not so familiar, not so permanent. 


You tried to hide if from me all those years ago. And you did for a month or so... only you and she know how long. Do you remember how my heart was torn in half when I found out that you and my

supposed "best friend" were having a relationship behind my back? All because I was restricted from seeing you for a month. All because the two of you couldn't see past your primal urges. I gave all of myself to you. I stood by my words... my heart truly loved you. I was foolish and naive to think that everyone else was truthful, loyal, and compassionate. To add insult to injury you had to go and blame it all on me. You were cruel, rude, condescending, and ruthless while you strove to divert the pain of your mistake onto the one you betrayed. You destroyed me that day. I was 15 years old. I wanted <b>so</b> very much for things to be different. I wanted <b>so</b> desperately for you to love me the way I thought you always had -- the way I loved you. No one -- <b>No one</b> could shake what I felt inside for you -- except you. Alas, I could not make you love me the way I needed. You had joined the ranks of the others so dear to me that decided that their own selfish desires were more important than the feelings of a little girl who was never allowed to speak. The thoughts of you and her, like the gears on a clock, turned and churned inside of my mind... each time breaking away a

chunks of my heart. A pain so great, so excruciating, so torturous... that I could not maintain even the slightest level of friendship with you. Years later you called me, seemingly, to reopen and deepen the wounds you so easily inflicted on me in the years past. You asked for you ring back and everything you had given me. I wouldn't. It was in it's resting place, for me and only me, to encase and control all of those wonderful and terrible feelings into one <i>closed</i>box. All those letters to me. All of those little special drawings you would make just for me. It worked well for you. You really did make me feel special -- only -- I wasn't. It, like everything else I had been told by anyone, was a complete lie. You probably did that for <i>all</i> the girls you wanted to use up. During your phone call you were so cold and hateful to me. You called out of the blue... after my heart was just beginning to heal from the lacerations of your double-edged actions and words. I began to realize that maybe giving all of those things back might make you go away once and for all... even though in my own sick way I didn't want you to. So I offered to exchange the things you had given me for the ones I had given you. Do you remember what you said? You told me you had thrown them all away a long time ago. I was silent. I can feel it like it was yesterday... still fresh in my mind. Where I was standing, what I was wearing, and the time of day. You reached for a sign of my pain by asking if I was still there. My answer of, "Yes." wasn't enough for you. You had to continue the torture by ordering me to give you back what was, what you thought to be, rightfully yours. You seemed to revel in your ability to rip my heart right out of my chest. How did it feel to have it there in the palms of your hands again? Did it comfort you to know I still loved you? Did it comfort you to know I was still hurting? Did it comfort you to know that you still had control over me? Then I hung-up, stormed into my room and tore every thing out of my closet. There were books, posters, letters, stuffed animals, pictures, stickers, and <b>my</b> ring scattered all over my room. I was so livid. I loathed my presence in a world were I could do nothing to help myself from feeling dead inside. I then realized that I had just had a temper-tantrum. Tears were streaming down my face and soaking me shirt and pants. I began to hyperventilate and blacked out. Where were my parents? Gone. Off doing whatever it was that was so important to them on their "off work" time. Certainly it was not me. Where was my best friend? She was off being best friends with someone else. No one had time for me, however, I had all the time in the world for someone -- <i>anyone</i> else but me. Me? I was worthless alone. I couldn't please anyone. I couldn't make anyone happy. Why was I still drawn to you? Why did I still love you? How can someone like me be happy when making others happy is my nature -- and yet fail to do so? So when I fail to make anyone happy... I fail to make myself happy, therefore there was and is only one thing for me to conclude. <b>I AM A FAILURE!</b>


So here I am once again... 15 years later and regretting ever coming to look for you even after all of those terrible things you did to me. Why did I ever think you may have changed? Why do I still love you? I don't want to love you. I don't want to love <i>anyone</i> anymore. This time, you're trying even harder to hide what you're doing... probably because you don't want to hurt me anymore. Unfortunately for me, no matter what you do in this case... I am going to hurt. I am hurting now... knowing that you're keeping the truth from me. You're afraid to be honest with me because you're afraid to lose me. You're such a selfish bastard! If you really cared for me one bit... you'd tell me. You'd be honest and know that I'm going to hurt. You keep denying that I have feelings. You act like I'm made of stone. You've used my love for you to have your cake and eat it too. I've been stupid enough to take it because I'm desperate for love, affection, and compassion. I'm pathetic. It hurts me to be around you. It hurts me to be away. You've told me that when I wear certain clothes that it makes you uncomfortable because you think I'm trying to come-on to you. <b>WELL I AM!!! DUH!</b> But I stopped because you would continue to be angry with me. You've been a total hypocrite. Your new "Kelly" wears shirts where you can see her nipples through it but <i>that's</i> ok if <i>she</i> does it. She wears shirts that cut so low you can see at least 4 inches of cleavage. Yet... somehow that's ok for <i>her</i> to do. That's more proof to me on where you two are or already have taken it. So stop lying to me! Stop trying to protect my feelings because you're not protecting them at all. In fact, you're doing the opposite. You're making them run rampant through my mind and it's making me crazier than you already think I am. Please... <b>PLEASE</i> I'm <b>BEGGING</b> you to either keep me for good or let me go forever. 

I'm dying. 

You're killing me.

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