Irony
How I hated him when he was here.
He tormented me.
He toyed with me.
He ruined me.
He took over me.
He controlled me.
He hurt me.
He maimed me.
He killed me.
He claimed me.
He frightened me.
He haunted me.
He raped me.
He changed me.
He lied to me.
He never loved me.
Never.
So how ironic is it, that now when I'm finally free and he is just a bad memory, that all I can feel for him is the one thing he never felt me? And the one thing he never will?