You trace your fingertips against the great salmon walls, running your palms against the graffitied curves of the black

spray-painted letters. Memories pass through your mind, kisses in the rain, hugs muffled by puffer jackets in the snow, picnics on the beach under the beating hot sun. You cringe, remembering a life that doesn’t seem to belong to you anymore. You remember his scent and the brush of his flesh. Your breathe catches in your throat as you feel slow tears slip down your cheeks.

Your tears turn to lava, your love turns to hate. Your flat palms turn into fists, as you pound your arms against the walls. Screaming at the world, screaming at the girl who took the boy away from you, the future that she snatched without asking, without saying please. You question yourself, wondering what you did wrong, what you did to make him dislike you so much. You stretch out your arms, looking through the beauty, only seeing the insecurities.

You see the way your elbows stick vividly out of your forearms, the light flab’s beneath your shoulders, your long fingers, your scraggly hair, your small eyes and large nose, your skinny lips and huge ears. Why did you even think there was a possibility with you and him in the future. You wipe your nose, banging your head against the wall where you marked your initials, marked your love.

You wipe your eyes, staring warily at the walls and the dark words. You bite on your lip so hard that blood spills from your gum. You beat your fist on the word “Love”longing for revenge. You suddenly feel an urge to slap both him and his “perfect” new girlfriend round the face until they both cry for mercy. You spit on the floor, cursing under your breath, swearing on your own life that you will strike revenge.

Wiping the angry tears from your face, a grim smile passes over your face. “I don’t need you!” You spit into the air, “I’ve never needed you!” With that, you kick the wall, storming from the dilapidated building, hungry for blood. You grin uncontrollably, unable to stop the delight pumping from your heart, through into your veins. He will pay for what he did. They both will.