What we had was not real. I realized this because I thought about you today and instead of pitiful longing, there was heated spitefulness in its place. I thought about how carelessly you treated me, and in that moment, I wanted you to never be happy.

In fact, I had hopes for you. Hopes that you’d never find someone fulfilling. Hopes that you'd always be searching and never satisfied. Hopes that you’d spend eternity pondering what could have been, with me plaguing your mind.

See? What we had couldn’t have been genuine. People in caring relationships don’t have these kinds of hopes when it ends. No, people who are loved are able to recognize their faults in an ending. Their heartache feels worth it, unlike mine.

At one point, I told myself that I would never write another word about you. I caged my feelings in silence; spurned from resentment. In reality, I gave you too much credit for the sadness I experienced. I didn’t realize that you were a bigger fool than me.