Something about it, I sensed long ago. I was not whom you loved. There was something hidden in the cracks beyond what I could perceive in my mind. Through the “I love you babe” to the “if you keep saying that, why don’t you leave”. That was it, because you told me you loved me and I believed you every single time. Every time you said it, I believed you. Every time I didn’t believe it, you some how convinced me that I was wrong, and I believed you again. It wasn’t me you loved, it was the idea. You would rather take someone else out because you’re scared. But why her? I hate her already. I knew that that was your way out. Everyone has a way out, and inside I die, she gets everything I wanted.