I do care for you, something inside of me always always will. But I also resent you. We tried for years,  years and it has come to this. Strangers. We don’t act like friends, we don’t talk like friends, it’s like I was never even a blimp on your map, never a chapter in your book. Which is fine. But don’t you dare sit there and paint me black when I put up with years of sneaking around, years of lie after lie after lie. I’ve had to sit there, knowing the truth and have the one person I’m supposed to trust, the one person who is supposed to care for me look me in the eye and lie. You’ve crossed your heart on words of betrayal one too many times, and I’ve crossed our bridge and set it aflame in hopes of shedding the weight of our past. I know you never really loved me. You may care for me, but I was never your person. I never could manage to set your soul ablaze and light that fire in your eyes. But you’re not my person either, because if someone can consciously make the decision to do things they know will pain their partner, that’s not love. You stopped calling me beautiful, you stopped admiring, you stopped telling me you loved me all the time and stopped giving me the attention and affection that I so desperately needed. You stopped being my boyfriend a long time before we broke up, so don’t you dare sit there and paint me to be the villain because I tried. You may have broken me every time you lied to me but I will not let you break the little bit of trust for the world and sanity I have left. I’m nobodies victim. Not even yours.