So what if I'm villainizing you to make myself feel better about the shit that I went through?

I was half the problem, but you stuck around, 

and you know that fires only grow if you don't put them out.

So who cares if I hate you if that's what it takes for me to get away?

Why would he defend you when he knows the hard truth that I'm forced to swallow;

the one that my therapist spits in my face.

I want to scream when she sympathetically says, "You were just a child"

because doesn't she know I know that?

Don't they know I don't need any reminders?

Do they realize it makes it worse?

It makes me wonder about you;

how you took it, how you are taking it,

if you get the funny little flashbacks that I do; 

the ones that make me search for solace,

not wanting to be alone with my head for more than four seconds.

So what if I run from a past that I struggle to reconcile with?

So what if I delete every drop of evidence that I made you smile once?

I want to forget that you ever sauntered your way into my life.

I need to forget what I let you do to me.