You're not the same person I started talking to in November. Whoever that person was, I would fall in love with him. I would travel with him. I would fall asleep next to him with his arms wrapped around me and know that I'm safe. But none of that will ever happen because you changed.
You're not even the same person you were a month ago. I don't know what happened, I don't know what's wrong, I don't even know if you're telling me the truth, but I'm sick of it. I'm sick of the lies and the manipulation and the abuse. I'm sick of the blame and the yelling. I'm sick of dealing with you.
Pretending to like me and pretending to be my friend doesn't make you a better person. It doesn't make you stronger, or more manly, or cool. It makes you a cunt.
I can't be sad about this. I can't be hurt by it. I'm just mad at this point, and so over it.
