compost:
I hate myself for loving you. I hate this insecure depressed little whiny needy bitch that you've turned me into. I hate the way you always leave me with juuust enough to keep hanging on. I hate that you took a happy, satisfied and generally good person and turned me into a cheating and unsatisfied with everything in my life person. Either start being romantic again or get the fuck out of my life. All I do is spend every day aching for you and wanting you and generally being either depressed or pissed off because of the distant way you treat me, and then you have the temerity to ask me how I can possibly doubt your feelings for me. Maybe if you'd actually say 1/10th of the uplifting things I say to you I wouldn't be fucked up like this and trying to hide it from every damn person I know.
outcome:
