I feel sick just thinking about it. Thinking about you.
I can't believe how far you've fallen and how much you've changed. You used to be the golden child; the perfect warrior and student. But, you—your stance, your voice, your eyes—have changed. You've become colder. Harsher. I've been told you always were, but I know better than to believe them. I knew you had a heart. I never lost faith in you. Or, I tried not to.
That day—the one where we met again, alone, and you tried to kill me with chidori—you remember it, right? Am I so easy to kill? Do you feel nothing at all? Because I felt something—something a lot like heartbreak and disappointment and betrayal.
I grew up a little that day. You've successfully crushed a girl's hopes and dreams, that's for sure. I don't think you're even a little sorry you did, either. In fact, I think you liked it. I think that you loved how strong it made you feel knowing you held so much influence over me. I think you liked knowing you could kill me in a few short seconds, if you wanted to.
I hated it. I wanted to hurt you, like you hurt me, but I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to even lay a finger on you, because I still care. A lot. I know you may not care at all—and even if you did, you would never admit it—but, I just want you to know that every time I think about you I want to vomit.
Um. Sorry.
Gross, right?
That's what I was thinking as I lost my breakfast after seeing you that day.
So, is this what they call "love sick"? Because I'm pretty sick of love and I want out.
That is…unless you maybe like me like I like you?
No. Just forget I said that. You don't. If you did, you wouldn't hurt me like this.