Very Bad Things

I've been moping and sulking.

The guy I liked, as it turns out, did not like me. In fact, he liked me so little, he had planned to dissever my association with him... with a text message. Ouch. So my feelings were pretty hurt. And then... I killed them. My feelings, I mean. I took a mental hammer, and killed them all. Tell me please, what good are emotions and affection, when you're all busted up inside like I am, and can't ever behave correctly?

That's not to say I don't blame him for his behavior. I do. I blame him for convincing me I had a future with him, for talking about the future, and making it seem like it was something that could be real. I blame him for using me like a Kleenex, --for fucking me, shooting cum down my throat, filling my head up with bullshit, and -then- deciding he didn't like my personality.

I get myself all angry, and then... remember him holding me, and telling me nice things, and then I can't be angry. I can only deny myself any more crying, wish him the best, and force myself forward.

I've been busy anyway. Finals are due soon, I'm going on vacation --a tiny one, --and work has been hectic because it's tourist season here.

A day I once looked forward to is approaching, and now... It's just another stupid hot day. I'll register for my new classes, give up crying for people that don't give a shit about me, and try to forget he was ever real. None of it was real, and it can't hurt me anymore.