As I sit here writing this I have come to the realization of several things.
First, I'd like to say that every time I look at you, I look at you with disgust. I look at you with true hate because I've finally come to terms with the fact that you could never be there for me when I was sitting in the depths of my own self-hate and disgust. The time I cried in your bedroom because I thought you would be able to help me with the weight of depression, how you were standoffish and didn't have anything to say, I saw your true colors.
So you wonder why I don't talk to you anymore, or I don't look at you in the eyes. I don't look at you that way beca