I've been avoiding writing today's letter.
Mostly because I'm mad at you.
Because I really don't think you uunderstand what's going on.
I don't think you know what you're putting me through.
In fact, I feel like you think I'm playing the victim.
Am I, Baby?
Am I playing the victim to you?
I really don't think you know what you're doing to me, let alone what you did to me.
I don't think you understand the weight of your words, or your actions, or your manipulation.
I'm angry because I really think we could've make it through, I really think we could've work it out. But you don't want to. You just don't.
And it makes no sense to me. Becuase if you really did love me as much as you say you did, you could've at least try a little harder.
Who broke the heart of who?
Me? Who tried to love you in every way shape and form possible, who gave herself devotedly to you, who quit half of her morals just to put a smile on your face, who walk a thousand extra miles to fix every single problem we had because God knows how long ago this would've ended if it wasn't because I forced you to sat down and listen to me.
Or you? Who made me apologize everytime I put out my anger feelings over something you did to me, who played stupid when I've did a serious question, who made me feel stupid over the lame excuse "I'm just teasing you" or your favourite, "you're over reacting". Was I, baby?
Why can't you just grow a pair and realize that for a relationship to work, it takes both of you and me to make it happen.
Baby you could shut my mouth but inside my head this reckless heart was just getting ready to fall free.