Even though I am really really REALLY FUCKING PISSED OFF, I get an odd sense of satisfaction about the fact that I was right. About you, about the one you love, about the way you think of me. I was right. I pass Go, I collect 200 dollars, I feel a grinding pain in my stomach.
And you are right. I'm not in love with you either. But I was. And that is what cuts my soul.