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i could not see you for who you were.

my eyes, clouded with youth and inexperience, only saw those traits that wanted for adoration - only those traits which deserved it.

i edited you into perfection.
you were exactly what i wanted because, in truth, i had created you.

i could not see you for who you were.
i am certain of that now.

it is easier now to make you into the monster - to believe you totally unfeeling - than to believe that you really did love me and yet acted so selfishly.

it's easier to convince myself you never loved me at all.
otherwise hate would be impossible and pain would be inevitable.

to hate you is necessary.
because i can forgive you for so many things:
for using me terribly,
for loving me thoughtlessly,
for treating me wrecklessly.

but the one thing i find myself incapable of forgiving you for is stealing my youth.
though the initial pain of each sting is long forgotten, the poison still remains.
there is not a memory to recall that you were not part of.
because even before we were, you were there.
the perfection i had manfactured you to be.

and it fucking kills me to think i never really knew you at all.

9:57 a.m. - 2008-11-05

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