I am tentatively, yet surely looking forward to hating you for what you have made me become. I may not have seen it before, but without a doubt I am now in your trap and terribly regretful for loving my way into this mess. Congratulations, but this is nothing you should be proud of. I’m beginning to grow tired of helping you realize how you’ve hurt me, and yet it’s the pain that you’ve put me through that you’re so attracted to. The scars now appearing on the inside mean nothing now that the exterior has its little flaws. You are only proud of the scars you varnish me with.