I'm writing this for myself, not you, you will never see this. Our relationship is dead, it has been so for years, it probably was before it even started, but that doesn't mean that it never happened and what did pass between us left a lot of scars on me. Congratulations on getting beyond it, beyond me, sill leaving me wanting more. But like I said, that was years ago. I was just jealous that you got their first.
Love and hate are so closely related, the line that seperates them is merely perspective. You're the closest thing I've ever come to love, and our love fed on so much hurt. We hurt each other so much.
But I craved it, it was the only thing I had of you.
I've seen you cry. I've made you cry. And you know that you've made me cry, even though I never let you see it.
The same thing would have happened to any other people in our situation. We were thrown into something so intense at such a young age. You ripped into my insecurites, you found them like you were an expert at this. You thought you were joking, but how were you to know? The repercussions of the things you said and did to me still haunt me today, and I've blamed you for years. That was what made it so hard to let go of you when you finally let go of me.
I'm not a victim of you however. I realize that now, and I refuse to blame others for my actions.
And any pain that you caused me has been repaid in kind. I was your obsession and everyone knew. (You were my obsession and nobody knew).
I wanted to write this to remember what we were back then. Years have passed, young years which seem like lifetimes. I've changed so much. You are gone and so am I and looking back is so surreal. When I look back, all I have is textures, the palpable feeling of creativity. That time was unique, as unique as we were. The pain isn't there anymore, I'm left with scar tissue that I've seperated from you.
I wish you all the best in the world.