Splitting Headache.

I don't fucking need you. You all think you're better than me but it's not true. You don't matter to me at all, you know. You're just grains of sand.

Sure, go ahead. Try and replace me. Find someone else to fill my role. Maybe you will, maybe they'll work perfectly in my stead. But won't you always feel that guilt, that sadness, won't you always feel spurred knowing I moved on so quickly? I don't need you.

Don't even look at me.