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Love.

That word is thrown around a lot. Some people mean it, some people say it for show, and other don't even understand the meaning of the word.

I am one of those who says it, and actually means it. I don't tell people that I love them for a laugh, I tell people that I love them because that's how I feel about them.

I love my mother, the woman who has always been there for me and has never let me down, and my love for her goes beyond the stars. I love my father, despite his untimely death six months ago, I still love him. I love my brother, for everything he does which annoys me and for all the times I have wanted to punch him in the face, I still love him.

And I loved, still love, you.

You were the first man I gave my heart to, the first man I trusted, the first man I felt safe with, and the first man that I actually saw myself spending the rest of my life with.

I will probably never get over you, and I will probably always love you. You were, after all, the man I married and called my husband. If only you hadn't have done what you did, if you had just came home that night, nothing would have changed between us and we would still be madly in love with each other.

But you did this. You caused this. I just hope that you can live with the consequences of your actions.

 I just hope that you can live with the consequences of your actions

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