He'd left early this morning.
Good. Because I don't wanna see his f*****g face anyway.
Except that was a lie, and I hated how easily the lie sat on my tongue.
I wanted him to see me.
Wanted him to look at me and remember exactly what he'd thrown away.
Wanted him to feel the exact pain I was feeling.
I want him to notice me. I want him to look right at me. I wanted him to see what he'd chose to let go. I wanted him to feel the pain I felt every day.
The anger had not gone. It even grew sharper, so sharp i could point it directly at him now.
I was done being the girl who she shed tears into her pillow while the guys she wants f***s every single girl he sees.
If he really wants to act like I don't exist, I'd make sure to give him one hell of a contest.
I sat up for a second,
