I sit on my bed, staring at Marinette's number. I still love her, even after breaking up a few weeks ago. And I don't want to hurt her. But the more I think of everything, the more it hurts, and the more bitter and mad I feel. And the more I don't do anything about it, the more intense it gets. I bite my lip and call her. I need to confront her. I need to at least get out my feelings and let her know how badly she hurt me, and how unfair it was. I was a doormat. And I regret it.