I know - you know - we both know, you are not gonna read this. You're not reading it at all. My... notes here. My thoughts, my life. You were never really intrested in this. Unfortunately, it seems that part only I know.

There is one kind of people - they never get a real good chance of love, love for the lifetime, see what I mean? They meet suitable ones, but it's like they are doomed and it's a curse for their blessings. Musicians, artists, producers, crazy people. They can make magic, but they never get a solid love, family or smth. Every time smth goes wrong and then... then it's over and you have to keep your head up, above the water. Again.

You make me believe that I am one of those. You made me and you still do. Every second.

Everybody tells me: memory is good, it's your treasure. Ok, I agree. Maybe. Everybody tells me: this wasn't a waste of time, these three years - it's a memory, it's a true love, it's an experience. Well, you know what? I wish I have never met you.

I wish I have never met you.

I hate you.

Really, I am. Never feel anything like this before, but I know how it's called. I hate you. And, the most scary part, I don't want to feel it. to hate you, I don't want to hate anybody, anything, never! It feels awful!

And I'm trying, I was trying. Dating again? No? You didn't like the sex? Okaay, maybe friendship then? No, you don't care about me, you don't miss me? After those three years of "true love"?? Makes me think - it wasn't love at all. No one moment.

You don't make it easier for me - not to hate you. So I do. I hate you. Not because you dumped me, no. Cause you never loved me at all and now you just don't give a shit about me and my life and everything. You never did. And you never knew me trully and you don't know me now. At all. This is good. I don't want you to know me. I just hate you, that's all. 

I needed to say this all or write. I have nobody to say it to and I have this electronic peace of paper. Cause I can't now write on a real paper, makes me think about all those diaries, full of lie - I write here. I know you won't read it.

Good, anyway.

I guess it's all alright. I have nothing left inside my of chest but it's all alright. (c)