I might end up calling you.

I want to hate you.
I want to stop being angry.
I want you to know.
I want you to know that you finally fucking hurt me.
You succeeded.
Are you happy?
I hope you are.
I hope that it hurts you to think that I haven't thought about you in a good way sexually since last year sometime.
I hope that it hurts you.
I hope that you fucking know that you DIDN'T make me happy.
You failed.
And if you want to fuck someone without a brain, you can.
You can fuck up your pathetic life even more.
You can fuck up.
You're allowed to.
You don't have me holding you back anymore.
Holding you back.
Ha.
Hahahahahahaha.
Oh.  You are so, so funny.
I got you to get a fucking job.
I got you to at least TRY going to school.
I guess I failed.
Whatever.
You were so not worth it.
I fucking wasted my time.
Yes, I learned a lot.
But I fucking wasted my time.
You are seriously.
I don't even know.
I don't love you anymore.
I can't, and I don't even WANT to anymore.
You are not loved.
I hope that hurts.
I hope that hurts like hell.
I hope you fucking burn.

I don't remember the last time I've been this angry.
I'm too angry to even want to take it out on myself.
I just want to hurt you.
It scares me.
Not going tonight and not drinking was a good idea.
I'd do something really stupid.