i hate that you had to happen; i hate that i allowed you to.

if i could take it all back now, i really honestly would. i would not have gone with you. i would have ended the night by climbing into that cab with bean and that would have been that. the smart thing i could have done for me. the right thing.

i think the worst of it now is the fact that i am left with so much more fear and disappointment. it is as if i am absolutely saturated with nothing but. i know not who, what or how to trust anymore. you were that one last blow—i am all the worse for wear because of you. and yes, i fully blame you.

perhaps it had been too hideously optimistic of me to have expected any ounce of goodness to actually come from such a broken and bitter thing like you—someone who has only ever known fear, confusion, lies and the pain of abandonment. always hungry for more because everything you have ever had were false illusions. nothing lasting. i would say i feel sorry for you but it is only me i feel sad and sorry for. somehow, we just cannot seem to stop finding each other, us broken, discarded, damaged things.

i want nothing more now than to overwrite you. and if i fail to do so, completely erasing you will do.