Tonight you told me you don't show up to our 10am class because you're scared to see me. Really? You're probably not there because you're hung over.

You were always drunk, always bipolar, always lashing out on me because of your own problems that you've been struggling with and when I left you went insane. But I didn't drive you there, you did this to yourself. You're still doing it to yourself.

Now that I've found someone that I feel like I could one day give my heart to, you keep telling me "I have feelings for you." The thing is, you do have feelings for me. But they aren't the correct feelings, they aren't what you think they are.

You say you love me, say you care, say you wanted to be with me; no. You never loved nor cared for me, and you only wanted my body not my soul. You pushed and pulled, and yet every time you broke down into tears I welcomed you to the warmth of my bed and the embrace of my arms just so you could feel safe.

Ring ring ring.

You're calling right now but I can't answer. You saw me tonight and all your emotions rushed towards you. Perhaps I really just need to disappear for good, since you won't give me that like you said you would.

It's driving you mad to know you can't have me, that I don't hold you in my favor anymore, that you aren't the one I think of, dream of, have hope for a future with. Not anymore. When you cried tonight outside the club I felt bad for you, but I feel even more for myself. And what I feel for myself is a strong need to feed my own desires instead of giving you the world. And what I desire is him, not you.

But those feelings you have aren't love, they aren't empathy, they aren't anything of the sort. They're simply feelings. Your feelings. Right now what I care about are my feelings.

I'm too busy to think about yours.