It’s crazy how we met up because of a giant secret and you hated me.
Then I realllllllllllly liked you because of what happened. Hell, I was so helpless and was beyond sad. Because you were the legit one. And you constantly threw that in my face. I was never the real one — I was always the under-the-table person. The male version of a mistress (lol, there’s a word and I don’t know and it probably makes me look stupid).
You couldn’t have blamed me for that because I didn’t know.
I liked you a lot because we were in somewhat of the same position — betrayed, lied to, and sad.
Then, something similar happened and those feelings regurgitated themselves. And then that happened and it was crazy because you were all infatuated. I tried to tell you and you were so… so unwilling to see the truth in how it was all bullshit.
Lalala, you took a walk in my shoes. Bitch, don’t deny it. It does hurt. Oh well. I’ve moved on. And I’m sure you have.
We’ve know each other for a while. And I’m glad we have. We’re on and off with our talking and it’s fine. Too much of you would drive me crazy. ;D