I hate feeling this damn hurt. I hate knowing that you used my love for you, against me. Enabled you? You bet I did. What other choice did I have? To watch you suffer everyday and just go on with my routine? No. Nobody that has love and compassion for another would. But now that you’re ok, I’m the bad guy who fed you drugs for months. That fucking hurts me. And I can’t even talk to you, because we simply don’t talk. I mean, what are we? Estranged lovers? This is all getting to be too much. I need some kind of stability in my life. The only attempt you make at being interested is when you think I’m coming down. Then, I never can and its back to not caring.
And the way you did me like you are. Letting me not have a stable home, working my ass off at two jobs, hardly having one positive thing in my life. You’re chilling though. You got a nice comfortable couch, food. You got friends, and family. I hope you’re happy.