I know I said I wanted the divorce. I know I said I didn’t love you. I hate what it’s done to our children, to you and to me. I still love you. I realized it as soon as the judge slammed the gavel down and declared us divorced. I never should have let it go that far. But I did. However, it was a little too late.
I know it’s too late for us now. I’ll know we’ll never get back together. I know we’ve hurt each other too much to make it work and we’ll always live in the past if we try again. All the lies, betrayals and heartache. There’s no getting over any of it for us to make it work.
You’ve moved on so fast though. And she’s so young. I can’t take that and you know it. Yet you don’t care that I don’t want her around my kids. She’s practically a child herself. What could she know about raising our children?
So in turn, I write this, Knowing that you’ll never read it, but it will help me finally be over you. Even if I do still care, which I always will after all the years and memories we shared. I can’t go back. I have to turn the page in this book and start writing a new paragraph. A paragraph in my new life. One that will include you, but only as a friend.