<------- What have you done. After committing a great deception you tried to console me, but all along you were just hurting me. Each action and every word which built up to this point, to this breaking point, when I finally understand the moral of this story in which you have so clearly flown, yet which I still struggle with: That I was always too good for you.

That night on my front porch you asked me if I hated you, with sad eyes and a heavy heart. I told you, "no," and I meant it. I still loved you no less than before, and perhaps some part of me still does. But now, now I could tell you, "Yes, yes, I hate you," and mean each and every word of it. Because after everything YOU did, after every lie YOU told, and after every tear YOU made me shed, I was asking myself what was wrong with ME. But the answer is now clear as day: there was never anything wrong with me. It was you who turned sour, you who was insecure all along. And though I never for a second question the love you had before our parting, I now question all of your values. I hate you for turning myself against me, and that was your worst crime of all.

That is all for tonight,

Me.