First off, the magically super fantastic best news in the world:

I got accepted into Evergreen State, and I shall be going to college in Washington in Late August.

Now the thing that almost ruined some of the best news of my life...

Justin tried to stab me. Big surprise, huh? Psycho boyfriend who has ruined the last year of my life, wait, make that over a year of my life, tried to stick a blade into me. Even though I was the one almost getting stabbed, he told me he didn't love me anymore and to get out, when fifteen minutes prior he was happy to see me and was holding me. Two days earlier he had been talking about us getting married and having kids. He's on disability for mental illness but even me who is a forgiving bleeding heart and an aspiring psychologist cannot take it anymore. He has made every moment of the last thirteen months a living hell, and my attachment problems and my inability to let go have left me swimming in the river styx. I got the last of my stuff from his apartment yesteday, and I could tell he wanted to talk or hug like the indecisive bastard he is, but I didn't even look him in the face. I know that me not saying a single word to him hurt him even more than if I had screamed at him and thrown punches. He's a drama queen and an attention whore, so I know it killed him inside. He's used to me crying at his feet and leaving all my dignity to fall to the ground, so my nonchalante apathy is a new thing for him. It's like I had moved to a new level above either the crying or screaming, something much worse. Silence. Silence is filled with such pure disgust and obscene betrayal that the person is not even worth the negative attention. It is like completely giving up on the person, like the things you used to love them to reassure you with don't even matter anymore. They have gone so far that those things can't even comfort you anymore. In a long quest to know if he really loves me, I suddenly feel that I just completely don't care anymore. The thought of him being with someone else used to kill me inside, but now the thought of still being with him kills me worse. I feel kind of free inside, but mostly degraded. I used to tell him I wished I had never met him, but now I actually mean it. It would have been better to be alone than to be so belittled and with my face shoved in the dirt on a regular basis. This is the first time I've really loved someone, and I don't think I'll ever recover.

I'm now so afraid of love that I may run at the sight of roses.