"No, I don't love you", The girl says as she looks at you like she would a crawling roach. "Furthur more, nobody would ever love you, you are a worthless week little loser. Woman want a real man, not a spineless wuss like you", She don't mind telling you. The pain is like a ripping crush. You sob heavily as you lurch away. The world hates you, everybody hates you. You leave your mega-weapon behind and you walk the weary road home. Now you are running a tub full of hot water. Now you are slicing open your wrists to bleed your pain found into the warmth, the only warmth that could ever welcome you.