In your declarations, you claimed to love me unconditionally and professed that I held a unique place in your heart. However, the question lingers, echoing through my thoughts like a haunting refrain: am I truly the sole object of your affection, or have I been reduced to a mere plaything, a disposable entity awaiting your next whim?
The wounds of deception run deep, the scars of your infidelity etched into the fabric of our supposed love. Despite my pleas for honesty and fidelity, your promises to cease the betrayal were nothing more than hollow assurances. The pain inflicted by your actions became unbearable, prompting me to declare my liberation from the anguish you so callously bestowed upon me.
Now, in the aftermath of my departure from this world, your remorse surfaces. But even in death, I am not spared from the realization that your newfound longing for me is merely a shallow attempt to reclaim what you lost. It dawns on me that your purported love was a façade, a fleeting emotion that vanished as soon as the veneer of our relationship crumbled.
I apologize for not conforming to your expectations, for failing to be the submissive woman you desired. In the end, I am sorry for not mirroring the characteristics of the other women who, perhaps, better fit the mold you sought. As I depart from this realm, I carry with me the remnants of a love that was never true—a love that, in its essence, was nothing more than a cruel game.
