If you were dead or still alive, I don't care.

To be honest, I'm a liar. Just like you. 

You lied and you lied and you lied,

So I have no problem lying to you right now when I say that my feelings are different now. 

To be honest, I hope your mind tortures you, and that your nightmares are just as bad as mine. Because clearly this whole "pretend she's dead" thing isn't working out, because you keep popping up everywhere I look. 

My mind can't find a tight enough crawl space to where your black nightmarish goodnights can't seep into my skull.

To be honest I hope you burn in hell for talking to me tonight, and if you don't, I hope your heart does, because I don't care what you say, 

We will never be "friends," because the though if it makes me want to spit. 

We will never "mend" things because you're to ignorant to even think about someone other than yourself. 

And by "It's alright I'll survive."

I hope you mean that you want to die. That your ribcage can't bear the pressure of your sickened stomach, and that it's about to burst with the loudest "I'm sorries" and flow with the bluest of tears. 

I hope that by "goodnight" you mean that you might just regret what you did, and that the words of someone you don't even know pried your eyelids open to the bright world outside your thick and small skull. 

I hope my "who's this" even sparked the smallest of flames in your selfish little brain. 

And I hope you change. By God I hope you change.