Leave me alone.

You say you want me to be happy, but you don't. You only want me to be happy with you; but I can't. You know just as well as I do that the only way I can be happy is without you. Ours wasn't the love you imagine growing up pretending to throw the bouqet. The words we shared were brief but it didn't matter. I could write a novel about what goes on behind your eyes. I could fill a five-subject notebook soley on the way you'd kiss me in the morning before I was even fully awake and the way you made me feel beautiful the second I opened my eyes. It was the most fulfilling, realistic, complete relationship I’d ever been in. It was also heart wrenching, twisted, blemished, rage-filled and nauseating. There were nights I would cry myself to sleep because I didn’t know where you were, where we were, what we were, what you wanted us to be. There's nights I still do... I told my self it would work. I told myself that we'd fix this. I told myself that this, somehow, was right. I gave you a chance. And another. And another. Things got worse. We’d make love, but it wasn’t like before. It was violent and painful. Sometimes, afterwards, I'd feel like a rape victim. You'd give me that crooked, scarey smile and we'd go to sleep. Since I couldn’t hate you, I started to hate myself. I still loved you, and I hated myself for loving you. The first time you hit me I was scared, but I knew it was coming. It happened so fast I don't even remember the reasoning. My cheek swelled. I left it like that. A battle wound. I deserved it. I deserved it for loving you. And it made me hate myself more. The worst part is that you wanted me to hate myself. You'd say things to ensure I'd never leave you. You'd say thing to guarentee I thought noone else would ever love me. But you were wrong. Now, I'm happy without you and you can't stand it.