It still hurts me that I think of you. You hurt me in ways so unnoticeable to someone else, yet with such words, you ripped every part of my confidence to shreds. You knew what my insecurities were and took advantage of them. I know you think you didn't because we always fancy ourselves the heroes of the story. I wish I could forget you, but every time I close my eyes, it's you. It's always you. And I hate you for it. But the color green still reminds me of you, and I'm not sure why.