Are clearly written here. I could never say the tiniest hint of this to your face, ever, not even in the nicest way possible, because you don't accept criticism. When I try to make even the slightest suggestion, even when you're being a Class A jerk, you freak out on me as if I've attacked you merely to hurt and in the most brutal manner possible.
I cannot quarrel with you, because you are so “fragile.” All attempts to do result in others coming to me and reprimanding me because of your fragility. How dare I upset the one who is so easily intimidated, so insecure? How dare I do anything but coddle and add to the lie of a life you're building for yourself?
I hope it crashes to the ground around you. All the lies you've built up to make yourself feel better. The fake friendships that you've built with so many others. I hope it crashes and burns and I hope you sit there, smudged in ashes, extending a hand to me and begging me to come in and give you the smallest bit of safety. I will deny that hand, I will scoff at it, and I will throw dirt in your eyes.
I don't even know what you are, because you are so fake. As soon as I try to sink my teeth into some small part that I think is really you, I find myself spitting out plastic whilst choking on Styrofoam. I'm done trying to know you, trying to trust you, trying to love you. You can rot with all of the others now. I wasted so much time thinking that I was special to you. I wasted so much effort trying to make you love me. I wasted so many tears, trying to believe you every time you lied and said you did.
No one understands me. No one understands why I'm not the type of person who can just let go and chop people out completely. I can't chop you out completely. I can't cut anyone out completely. Once you enter my life, you are a part of me. I consider you to dwell only in the deepest, darkest, most hated regions of my mind. You are everything that I hate about myself, rolled into a human being. And when I found myself becoming you, I fought my desire to rip out my heart, throw it into a fire and watch it burn.
Is this where we go on from then? You pretend to love me, I pretend to want it, and we stand with each other, bound together by our loathing, one and the same. I am you as you are me and we are we and no one will ever be able to tell us apart again. Sometimes I daydream about some magic man on a horse who swoops in to save me from you, but those are really just false hopes now, because you really are my past, present, and future. You are both the child in me, and this foreboding, dark cloud of adulthood that hangs over my head, waiting.