Here's what I remember about love:

I remember crying because of it, back when I could cry about things.

I remember it being the thing that finally made something in me snap, and left me broken.

I remember it burning me and making me hollow inside.

I remember it coming back, after years, but I still had trouble feeling things.

And the last thing I remember feeling is when I was listening to you sucking face with some piece of shit in the other room, after you held my hand and told me you loved me.

By that time, all I could really feel anymore was anger and despair.

No, darling. I don't hate you.

You're just being a good animal.