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God, I can't help but to feel so empty when I think about it. Why am I expected to keep up with it? Why I am the bad guy all over again when I can't talk? Because I really can't. I can't bring myself to talk to her. After last night...I can't. I don't want to. There is nothing she can ever do to make any of this better. But she doesn't want to make any of this better, she just wants it to go away. How can this get better? It can't. It was too terrible. Too painful. I can't recover from that. Everything I said...I stand by. Aside from what I called her, of course; I will admit that was too far and it was the only way I could get my anger out while she continued to pull the s**t that she did. But--I don't care anymore. I really don't. She can say all she wants, and I can no longer promise to control myself physically. A line of hatred runs through me, because the harshest hate comes from when someone you loved hurts you so bad. But it's fine. I'm not breaking my walls again. I love him, and because of the way she's acted towards me, that's all that matters.