Guilt for the Wicked

I hurt someone today. I broke his heart. He came over and told me he loved me, to give him another chance.

I said I hate him, that he had fucked up. That’s a lie. I said that so he could get over me quickly. So he wouldn’t miss me when I’m not there to wrap my arms around him while he sleeps or kiss his cheek to wake him up.

This couldn’t have happened at a worse time. His grandmother is dying. Considering he’s never met his father (let alone knows who he is) and his mother died when he was nine, his grandma is damned important to him. And you hurt him even more, Jess.

ARGH! Why do I feel this much guilt?! He really did fuck up. I don’t like him like that anymore… Shit, I’m getting soft. I used to hurt people for a living. I never lost any sleep over it. Now I tell a guy I don’t like him anymore and I feel like a hippo is wiping its ass on my chest. Time to move on, Fizz. You’ve felt sorry for yourself long enough. He should feel bad, not you.

Onward and downward, I guess.

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