An ex is a complicated thing. I often vilify him. Painting him as a person with a never ending lust for my body. But that simply isn’t true. That story was my defense. To protect my ego from being hurt, to make sense of what happened. An internal decision to present myself as the protagonist. None of it was the whole truth. The whole truth consists of a girl who didn’t support his music. A girl who doubted him and made him upset. A girl who didn’t love herself and used a boy to feed her insecurities. And a boy who was still trying to grasp the struggles of life in his own way.

I don’t hate him. I loved him before and I care for him even now, but for the sake of my sanity, with guilt dripping from my heart knowing that what I am about to say isn’t true, just for now

It was not my fault.

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