I loved you. we met in a place of supposed safety; a place where we would better ourselves. I thought you made me better. you always told me you loved me. it made me feel so safe and secure. but something was odd about you. you're angry.
you're always angry. whether we were at the park, in bed, in the streets, or at dinner. you were angry. you were so angry towards your mother, me, your brother, your friends, and especially yourself. you were either angry or horny. those two emotions would cycle between each other like a wheel. I didn't mind at first. I'd use your past to excuse you. you were locked in closets. hit. abused. screamed at. ordered around. of course you'd be angry all the time. so I'd excuse it.
but then I learned more about your... recent past. you used people for your own benefit. you constantly lied. you had lied to me many, many times. I once again excused it. you got your friends to harass me. you broke up with me many times. you used me. I excused it.
you lied to me for one last time, then talked about me behind my back. you had never loved me. you had lied. you wanted me gone. you wanted me dead.
now I want you dead. you've always wanted to die, so I'm doing you a favor. your anger is now my anger. and yours will disappear, and so will you.