That every time I think about you, I want to set things on fire. I want to punch my pillow and tell you how much I absolutely detest how you used and abused me. Told me that you had feelings for me, but could never say "I love you". But you could have s** with me, couldn't you? And then you up and tell me, even though I was helping you get over an abusive ex, that you were going back to her. Even though she was over twelve hours away from you. That she was going to stay in France while you stayed in Texas.
That upset me. That put me on suicide watch. That put me in a psychiatric hospital. That gave me a trigger, a trigger simply of others being happy with their significant others. To where I'd break down and cry for hours on end and feel forever inadequate and not worth anyone loving me. To never have any happy feelings.
And yet you said nothing when I told you this. All you said was "sorry" and haven't spoke to me since.
I hate you. I hate you more than you could ever understand.