Regret
i want regret. your regret; i want to bathe in it. And I want your tears to sink deep into your pillow case at night and filter into a tall glass that I drink before bed. I want to consume your regret, eat it up. I want to write like I used to write when I cared about everything instead of articulating nothing. I want to be a professional writer and crucify you on the page and you’ll read it because everyone will be talking and you’ll weep endlessly about losing me, but more predominantly, about wasting five years of my remarkably stunningly innocent self and live with the regret that you turned me into this. With the regret that the only girl you have ever loved not only loathes you, but is disappointed as hell in you. And I will live my fabulous beautiful life in your absence, also in regret, wondering why the hell someone like me would give you the time of day.
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