There are some things that should be written. This is not one of them.

How could you do that to me? I mean we honest to God don't know a thing about each other. But don't you owe it to me as a human-being to be nice, or at the least bit respectful? I owe you nothing. Ever. You owe me the world.

How could you do that to me? You make fun of me like it's no big deal. But it is. I didn't love you. But I was starting to. We could have been together. I could have shown you the world. We could have been perfect. But now that parallel universe seems like a dark, cold one that I would never even think to rent an apartment in.

How could you do that to me? They made you do it. I know they did. Don't lie to the front of my back. I can still hear. I can still listen. I can still comprehend. I can still breath. I can still live. I can still go on with my life (even though you can't). I can still find someone else to love. And it won't be you. I would never have loved you, and I promise myself I never will.

How could you do that to me? How I do this to myself... still reeling it around again after a year?

Never.