Hurt people hurt people

Every now and then I make it to a bathroom stall and curse to God not to cry.
I know I always say it hurts me most when I think I'm forgetting. (When I see it fading away.)
But, the truth is, it hurts me most when I remember.
My chest gets real heavy. I'm already hyperventilating on the inside. (I hide it well.)
And for a brief moment, fenced in by these makeshift seafome walls, I see it all like it was just days ago.
But that's not what really hurts.
What hurts is that suffocating feeling of being robbed without reason. Of knowing that what you once possessed for such a short short time (and it was a short time, we barely skimmed the fucking surface) will never return to me again. I can never not think that without feeling astounded. And angry.
I guess I'm still angry.
Or maybe I'm just now feeling angry.

However angry, however passionate, the (arguably) easier it's made being out for fucking number one.
Now I move on easy. Let go easy. Get bored easy.
I'll think you're stupid. Or superficial.
I won't call you back. Make promises I don't plan on keeping. I'll leave when I want to leave with no regard for your feelings.
I'll give short notice, and play favorites. I always play favorites.

It's often that I almost feel entitled to be a bitch when I want to.
And you don't have to call me out on it, because I'm well aware. I'll tattoo it on my fucking shoulder to remind you that I'm well aware. I never use this hurt as an excuse and I haven't to get me anywhere or sympathy or anything. Because a lot of people have their own business. Their own lives to notice. And that's ok.
It's ok that no one knows. No one knows the bad, and no one knows the good.
And again my self-righteousness faults me.

"Hurt people hurt people."

It's true.
And,
I'm sorry.
I am.
But, really,
when it comes down to it all...
no one's really that important.
Not anymore.

Call it punishment.
Call it regret.

But don't call me anything.

Lo