We’re young. Much too young to do what we did, and we both know that.
Yes, I started it. Yes, it was my idea. But you know what state I was (and still am) in. You could’ve stopped me and we could’ve taken things slow, but now there’s no turning back.
I loved you for three years, and you were always such a good friend. When we became more, I assumed it meant a relationship. You hurt me when I found out you “didn’t want to label it”, but I couldn’t say anything, in fear that you wouldn’t want me anymore. People knew me as a free- spirit, and you were no exception to that. How was I supposed to say that I wanted commitment?
I remember that day when I got back from the mental hospital.
I was walking by your house, when you saw me and ran to me. You hugged me and whispered “Why?” in my ear, and we stood there for what seemed like forever.
One could only imagine the shock when you found out your confident, easygoing friend was suicidal. Then again, you never really fully understood it, so you couldn’t have been that shocked.
And then you kissed me a couple weeks later, and things progressed. You know how it was.
You’d ignore me for days on end.
You kept our “relationship” a secret from all your friends.
You’d say I was third on the list of girls you liked.
I broke free.
I don’t deserve to be treated like that, and you took advantage of my weak self- esteem. You used me, and I was so blinded by love that I couldn’t see the wrong you did. I was never good enough for you, was I?