"There's a third option. Forgetting the anger."

So that's what I'm doing. I'm forgetting everything I was angry for, even though I know I'm right. I should have been the angriest person in the world, you deserved it. Not because you were mean, not because you were wrong, not because you meant to hurt me, but because you didn't even care. You didn't have to, but you made me think you would care, and you didn't.
I'm forgetting my anger for telling me you were leaving with the worst timing in humanity's history. For commiting to something you weren't ever ready for, and you should have known. For the fact that you stopped caring, and never even dared to talk about it. For not confronting me, and telling me you just wanted to leave. For not telling me I was never enough, and letting me torture myself trying to figure that out alone. For letting me guess. For making me start talking about what you should have told me the first day. For not even having the courage to dump me, and letting me help you do it, as some kind of favour.
I needed to let that out, I needed to tell that to a figurative someone (that's just me, reading what I write) and stop swallowing it down, pretending I wasn't angry, pretending I didn't wan't to beat the shit out of you. And I did, I did for this long, but I'm not keeping this. I'm not keeping all this crap because it's yours to keep.
I never kept my feelings to myself, I would tell the good and the bad. But with you I kept them, trying to be a "better person" or whatever fuckery I was thinking, just smiling and telling you it was okay. I told myself it was okay too, and I wouldn't even cry in my room, alone. I wouldn't even talk to a friend, I wouldn't even let me think about it. And it burned, never telling anyone I was hurt. But I'm forgetting that too. I'm forgetting that I hated myself while being with you, I was what I always dreaded: the well-behaved, limited girl who would only speak if someone wanted to hear, wouldn't say words like "fart" and would always have perfect hair. I'm not a stupid, random normal girl that you met at a party and is as original as a fucking fork. I'm more than that and I always knew, but I decided to forget that for a while. But I'm remembering now, I'm going back to me, and instead, I'm forgetting this fragment of my life that wasn't worth two seconds of my time, and it's staying in between brackets forever. I'm forgetting the fact that for the first time, some guy I wasn't even in love with, some guy I had nothing special with, some guy that was bearly smarter than a monkey, didn't feel anything special either. For the first time, the other person wouldn't care either.
So that's what saves me; it's just pride. I was never sad, I was never disappointed. I was just angry. Fucking furious.
But I'm not now. I'm forgetting it. I hope you can forget it too, it's a lot easier because you abandonned it first, and I think you must be over it by now; not me (you were never into me), but the way you behaved. I don't think anyone in this planet deserves to be cared about so little, that doesn't even deserve to be dumped. To be told why. To be told SOMETHING. Not even a stranger. But that's your shit, and as I said, I hope you can forget it. I don't think you ever realised or ever will, but if you do, I hope you can forget it. Because it's lame, it's sad to be so weak and selfish. And even if I had been the crappiest person in the world with you, which I know I wasn't, you could have been better. Too much work, I guess. Hope you never get smart enough to understand this, but if you do, I hope you forget it.
I'm never telling you this. I'm never exploding in your face. You will never see the unbearable anger I used to hold. I don't think I should ever let you see anything else of me, not even my worst side.
I'm not keeping it either. I'm not writing about it anymore, but not because of self-control. Because I'm throwing this shit away.
The best of luck from me to you. Hope your life gets as special as your dull, boring normality and your limited, affectedly elitist brain allows it to. No hard feelings or, actually, no feelings whatsoever. I hope you become, for me, the most irrelevant human being on the face of earth, just as you should have been from the beginning since I always knew you were less interesting than a cricket match. But you will be now, because it never took me long to forget about you, but I still remembered how angry you made me feel. And I'm forgetting it too.