My life is fucked up

I fucked up, i admit it now. 

I hate everything that's happening, but too bad. 

I hate this place, i miss home. 

Yet, i feel i never ever want to return back there incase i see you somewhere. Or that going somewhere will remind me of us. Or that doing anything and everything there seem to have to relate back to you. 

I don't need to beg. I'm good. 

At least over here, nobody will have to know and feel what i'm going through. I'm a fresh sheet of paper. 

And i can do whatever i want to now. 

I can do this, with no remorse and no regret. 

It's your loss.