I wanted the previous post to be my last letter to you, but I need to write out my feelings. And chances are you won't read these anyway, so why the hell not.

I thought I had forgiven you. Maybe I have, for the most part. But thinking about you still hurts. Seeing your name hurts. I want to erase you from my life, but I can't run away. I owe myself this much. 

I envy the way you can just decide not to care about something. How you could just change your mind about the way you felt about someone. Was I that bad? Did I fuck up so horribly to make you not even want to work things out? And for fuck's sake, the way you have me blaming myself yet again. I hate, however, that you had the nerve to tell me that I needed some self esteem. That may be true, but you made it worse for me. You broke me, more so. For someone who's supposed to 'love' and 'care' for me, I figured maybe you'd want to help me. No, that's not your job, but I would have done it for you. You've no idea how considerate I've been, how thoughtful I tried to be, how I hard I tried to make sure you knew you were loved. And if it was too much, all you had to do was tell me. But you didn't bother. And what's a girl gotta do to get a little appreciation around here? It's pretty shitty of me to expect things, I just thought I deserved a little better. I guess that's what ruined everything-I expected too much from you. I also gave too much, where as you didn't give enough.

I wish you never liked me. I wish you never told me anything you've ever told me-how you loved me and cared for me and wanted me, how you said you'd always be with me. I wish you didn't care enough to see me in the first place. I wouldn't be here wasting my time over something I thought to be true.