I was ashamed of loving you.
I was ashamed that I fell so hard for you, and gave so much to you, when it turns out that you never cared about me at all. That you were just toying with me.
I felt so foolish, felt so much shame, that I lashed out in contempt and hostility in an attempt to transfer that shame.
I’m trying to let go. I’m trying not to stew in my anger. I’m afraid of what will happen if that anger turns to hatred. I couldn’t even look you in the eye last week, because I felt such gut churning resentment and irritation. The sight of you irked me so much I could barely stand to be in your presence. It annoyed me so much that I don’t even want to associate with any of our mutual friends because they remind me of you.
It’s less intense now, but the feeling of wanting to cut ties with you, with all of them, and leave it all behind is still there.
But yesterday I made the decision that I wouldn’t leave, and I stand by my decision.

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