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It's not fair.

I know it's not supposed to be real.

It's still not fair.

How can she... have what I had. IT'S NOT FAIR. No one is supposed to have that. No one. No one but me and him. We were special. What... Why. It

People don't understand.

How many people get to say they had that experience? I've never met anyone else like me. So then why do people in the movies and television shows GET TO BE ME! Why do they get to have these things I had! I

I don't know anyone else in real life that has it too.

I wish there was someone else in real life who did have what I had and we were able to meet.

I wish I could be humbled. If I met other people more severe than myself, perhaps then I wouldn't feel this.

My tears don't run anymore,
they stick to the bags and eyelashes
...until I sweep them away.
I do sweep them away.
And I don't think of you.

Why does she get him?

Maybe it's not hate, though my little voice screams that it is so. In my heart hate doesn't resonate. I've known pure hate and this isn't it. It feels more like pity or regret. Pity at seeing my past? Regret at not being her? It's not envy because I know that too. Envy is ripping out my hair and screaming bloody murder at how unfair it is. How it should have been me. Anger is the seething that takes away all words and takes away my legs to walk. Pity feels like the crippling of watching someone and cannot help. You understand what they are going through and cannot do anything. Perhaps it is more regret then. Regret that I'm no longer there. Regret is pushing self to cry more even though you know it's not going to help. Regret is wanting to be there again and talk to that person, to ingest them and their life.

And I do.