Dear you,
You are an awful person. You are, for all intents and purposes, nothing more than just a pebble in my shoe at this point... rattling around until you painfully remind me of your existence with one of your jagged edges.
I have tried so hard to show my continued interest in being civil, or even dare I say it, friendly after everything that happened between us, and ended up receiving little more than the cold shoulder from you. I’m not sure whether that social media post you made was meant to be some sort of coded message, but, either way: I’m not 16 any more. If you want to tell me something, tell me using words rather than stupid passive-aggressive videos on your Instagram feed. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to message me, only for you to not bother dignifying me with a response when I reply - I’m not interested in these games you seem to be determined to play; particularly when you always happen to time them for when my feelings have run out for you and ‘us’.
You said some really hurtful things to me, and despite me supplying loads of apologies to you for things that I definitely could have done better, there has been absolutely nothing from you.
Part of me wants to scream from the rooftops and tell the world just how vile, unrealistic, and manipulative you can be, particularly given that everyone sees you as some sort of saint - but I also realise that I shouldn’t waste the energy.
Me. P.S. You might have thought you’re better than me - but we play the same fucking rooms. Your therapist have might have tried to get you to “recognise your self worth” but you’re over-egging it and are truly coming across as an arsehat. Call me when you’ve finally had your wakeup call.