She didn't call back.
To you, who apparently needs closure still:
I'm not your psychiatrist, and I refuse to be the center of your life. I haven't been reading your plethora of e-mails, they're still sitting, unread, in a folder all by themselves. I'm not reading your journal. If you can't move on now, I don't know what it'll take. But it's not going to take me. I refuse to go.
You do whatever you want, it's not my concern any longer. It stopped being my concern when you verbally stabbed me for the fourth time that night in the middle of the dance floor. That was a week and a half ago.
Nothing I post is about you, except this. Nothing I say is about you, except this. Nothing I do is about you, -except this.
You had my friendship even after our relationship ended on May 1st. You had that for a month and you fucking abused it.
Unless the next words from you are "I'm sorry for that month when I could have easily let you heal... but didn't." then I don't want to hear it. Stop calling me, stop e-mailing me, move on with your life, and let me have mine somewhere else. You wrote yourself out of my life, it's time you realized that.
