An open letter to my last love.

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        For some reason I always thought that you would treat me like a princess even though I wasn't royalty.
        For some reason I always thought that you would save me even though I was burning alive or running away from a dragon.
        For some odd reason bbb I always thought you'd love me and find me fascinating even though I was but a me at mortal.

        I always thought that the love and respect and admiration I had for you was always mutually shared. I knew you were a very private person but I didn't think you would try to keep me a secret. I didn't think you'd lie to everyone just so that I'd stay hidden away. I didn't expect you to post pictures of me on your social media and tell the world that I'm the love of your life and that you'd die for me. But I damn sure wasn't expecting you to reply to that girl that messaged you "Hey daddy , what's up".
           That was probably the moment I lost all my self esteem. Staying with you , I was hoping you would be different and you were. You changed for the worst. Inside me you brought out the worst. I cried so many nights and slept in for so many days. Tears started to stain my face , I looked tired. Fighting for something that was never going to work. When I asked what you'd been up to all day you openly said you were just hanging out with her all day. That you were making love to her all day. No wonder I could never see you that day , no wonder I cried all day. You were making love to her all day and you said you were just gonna fuck the shit out of my one day.
             God damn was I tired. For fuck sake was I embarrassed. Telling my self that one day you'll realize you miss me and that you want me and how you'll be sorry. I swear to God I thought you were going to wake up one day and realize how much you hurt me. But when I stopped writing so did you. Your face is just a memory. Your touch is just a memory. Your smell is just a memory. You got the best of me.
              All that's left is the worst in me.

Getting It Off My ChestWhere stories live. Discover now