I hope that your life is beautiful. I hope that you have that family you want, the daughter named London, the wife who never found out you cheated. I hope that you grow old with her and she never asks questions. I hope that you laugh with her and spend your days telling her your stories. I hope she tells you hers. I hope you can really stop having sex with other people. I hope that you aren’t really a ‘sex addict’ and that you mean it when you tell her, on your wedding day, that she’s the only one you want. I hope you stop being so serious. I hope that you learn to cry. I hope that you realize I am sorry for what I did to you, the way I threatened to destroy something you do nothing but take for granted. I hope that you were terrified when you thought you’d lose her. I hope it changes you. I hope you learn what love is, because I don’t think you ever have, and everyone should feel what I feel now.
I wish you nothing but the best, because I have said what I can say; because I have apologized more times than I can count. I hope your life is beautiful, but I feel desperately sorry for the girl who thinks she loves you.
(I only thought I knew you.
We were never really friends.)