AN: ...yeah...this probably sucks, but whatever. I guess it's really a personal vent, it's essentially personal experiences and I threw in SP characters in place of me and b/f's. So yeah, it's probably shitty. And I think using your own life when you're emotional usually produces poorly written, self-indulgent drivel...but I'm rather obviously in a bad mood, so I don't really mind.

Reviews would be cool, but I doubt it's very good. Lol, doing a lot of self-loathing right now, which is interfering with my other story writing, which is why I wrote this. So...enjoy?

P.S. I don't own SP

I hate you.

You're sweating above me, thrusting faster and faster. Your hips are hitting mine. It hurts. I don't say anything. In and out, in and out. My body is reacting, but obviously my mind is elsewhere. I'm so angry. I hate you.

"Ooh, oh God babe," and then with one final thrust you come. You pull out of me, bent over and panting as you remove the condom. You're weak in the afterglow of orgasm. I haven't come yet.

"Babe, let me get you," you move down, down, down. I put a hand on your shoulder to stop you, your head looks up at me, questioning.

"No, really, it's okay. I did already, it doesn't matter," I look away.

"But really, I want to."

"No," I say it sternly enough to see your confusion, I soften my voice, "No, really, I don't want to."

"Okay," you look a little hurt and you come back up to lie next to me on my bed. We're both naked and I still hate you. I reach for my bra, my underwear.

"Stan, you really need to go, my parents will be back soon."

You're still naked when you come up behind me and press yourself against me, wrapping your arms around my waist. I'm pulling on my panties and you're kissing me on the neck.

"Mmm, I wish I could just stay here all day with you," I can hear your smile, "I love you."

I hate you. I push down my rage.

"I love you too…but really, you need to get dressed and get out of here."

You heave a dramatic sigh, "Alright, I'm going, I'm going."

You were watching me with lustful, loving eyes as I got dressed. I don't look at you when you pull on your jeans, I feel like I'm going to vomit. I'm sitting on my bed, looking down at the pleats in my skirt when you're finally done. I rub my feet against the beige carpet over and over, I want to irritate my soles to the point of pain. Sole, soul, maybe I'm trying to make the two equal. You reach over and pull me up, pull me against you. You kiss me, it used to make you puke on me, now I'm the one that wants to puke on you.

"I love you babe, I'll call you later," I go to follow you, to lead you to the front door, you stop me.

"It's okay babe, you look tired, I'll show myself out," and there's that fucking smile again.

I want to punch you, but I push it down, push it all down.

"Okay, I'll talk to you later," and then you're gone. Gone. And I'm alone. I start to shake.

I want to cry, I want to vomit. I don't know why I let you do this, why I do this to myself. I feel disgusted, ashamed. I feel dirty. I go to the bathroom and step in the shower and turn on the water and hot and forceful as I can stand. I don't wash up, I don't look down. I can't look down. My body disgusts me. I think I feel numb. Or maybe I just want to feel numb.

I get out of the shower after I don't know how much time and walk back to the room with a towel wrapped around me. I look at the clock, it must've only been ten minutes in there, weird, it felt like eternity. I put on pajamas without looking at myself, I avoid my reflection in the mirror. I lay down on the bedsheets that still smell like sex and sweat, there's a stain as evidence of our coupling in the center. The sheets are dirty…dirty like me. I feel like a pig laying in their own muck. I deserve this. I curl up on my side. I cover my face and start to cry.

I hate sex, I hate sex with you, I hate sex with every guy I've ever had sex with. It disgusts me, it hurts me, and I let it happen. Why…why, why, why, why? Why don't I tell you no? Because I try to in my own way and you disregard it, you cajole, you plead, you whine, you break me down. Because years ago someone, someone just. Like. You., stole that right from me when they did the same thing and broke me down. And now I can't say no…what's the point? You'll do what you want anyway…just like the others. That's how it always is. There's no point in being physically forced as well…I already feel dead inside anyway.

You say you love me, I say I love you. But I don't. I hate you. I hate you so much I want to scream, want to hurt you, but I only hurt myself instead. And despite myself I feel bad when I do hurt you and work hard to please you. I give into everything you want just to please you…even as it rips my soul asunder a little more each time. And you wonder why I'm moody.

I hate you. You say you love me, you believe you love me. But you don't. If you did, you'd be aware enough to stop hurting me.