2001-09-04
"You don't know what it's like."
But you should know. Because you did the exact same thing to me as she did to you. Don't you remember? All that... telling nothing. I told you I was in love with you, I know you knew it. And then, then you start to go on about your wonderful love of your life. In your journal, without telling me. Remember how you whined she didn't tell you? Well, you didn't tell me either. You just let me read your journal and cry my heart out. And you tell she was selfish. That she was immature and stupid and all that. You were over her, yeah. And the least you could've done, would've been telling me what you were on about. But you didn't.
Should I whine that you're selfish now? Should I berate myself for having been so foolish? No, I guess not. I don't think I care anymore. What you did was what you did. But the least you could do now would be realising what you did. But of course you don't. And won't. So I'm entitled to be bitter and hurt. Well, I think I'd be entitled to that anyhow. But sometimes you're so hypocrite and blind that it makes me mad.