I don't love or hate you anymore. There's nothing. I embrace no emotion to describe you, not even apathy. Just this void between you and me, this connection that has snapped and ultimately crumbled away. You don't exist in this place I belong, and you're not welcome here. This sadness and disappointment inside of me reveals a truth I didn't know: You never loved me. You only love you.

Yes, I concluded our interactions. I said goodbye first. And you told me you're more of an asshole now. I think you were always the asshole. You don't know what it is to be raped of innocence and youth. And I'm so angry that I allowed you to call me "frigid" and cast me in the shade between right and wrong. I've hurt you, you said. I can tell. Are you still angry? You asked each day, like I should have accepted the drunken apology. You reek of mistakes and alcohol, and I have enough of both in my life. You were rough with me in that weak way of yours, and I don't think I can forgive you for it. No, we cannot be friends.

I thought I loved you. It's possible I did. I'm still sick, and I don't think I could accurately assess the damage. It's possible I only loved that you heard me, and it's very possible that I came back for more aching that you wouldn't validate. Poor you, without ambition. I listened to you bellyache about things you could change, had you wanted anything more than someone to touch you. You forgot about me in your misery, the misery we shared together. It's all gone now. It's all I had left, and I shed it away when I began to cope with my own. No, Brian, you're not the sad one. You take whatever you like, and you like misery. And you liked me because I reflected you. But I'm not your mirror anymore, and we don't speak. I know who you are now, no forlorn persuasions and fantasies of "us" to confuse me anymore. It scares you, doesn't it?

You hurt me. Your immaturity, your manipulation, your denial--I'm sure it all hurt me in some way. They're all instinctive qualities to you. It was my fault that I stuck around waiting for you to act human, to become something you weren't and never will be. It was my fault I didn't see beyond your excuses. You are cruel. I don't care that no one else sees that in you but me. I don't care that you deny it. You are cruel.

There is nothing left of you inside of me. I've retained nothing because I've thrown all of you away. However, I do regret the parts of me that I wasted on such a skeleton. I regret few things, but I regret it had to be you. I regret the spent fragments of me. I will never miss you, and I hope that fragment remains forever. Goodbye.

Jessica