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I hate how you leave your things in my room, expecting me to simply make room for you. I am so angry with the fact that you say things unintentionally and they hurt me so badly. I hate how I still let them hurt me. You have done nothing but hurt me for the past few months, and I’m sick of it. I want to hurt you like you’ve hurt me. There’s nothing that doesn’t ache inside me because of you. And I want you to know that. I want you to feel it. I wish that I didn’t feel this. I want you out of my life. Yet you’rve been a part of it for so long, it’s hard for me to say that. I don’t want to know where you, how you are… I don’t want to know who you are. Because more and more I’m figuring out that you are someone who I don’t like. I loved you, I can’t and won’t deny that, but I don’t like what you’ve become. What you’ve made me become. I’ve changed since you knew me, yet you tried to put me back into the same mold that I used to fit into. I don’t fit anymore. And you don’t fit me anymore. And for some reason I’m happy about that. And I’m glad to move on. You told me not to date certain people, because they wouldn’t be right for me. You’re wrong. You can’t tell me what to do, and you can’t pass judgment on what I do anymore. You didn’t understand me then, and you understand me even less now.