Letter 8

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Dear ex,

I hate you.
I hate you.
I hate you.

That's all I can say really. We aren't friends. God, to even think about it, we're we even friends while we were dating?!

You kissed her.

You kissed that blonde girl's lips and not mine. You grabbed her hand and lead her secretly upstairs and not me. She was your New Years kiss and not me.

It was never me, wasn't it?

And you can't bullshit me now. Be honest and open because I can read you. Yeah, that might sound so cliche but I've read the books and I've seen the lies that lurk in people's eyes. I've heard the sins they've spoke. So for mine and yours sake, don't try and be the angel here because, well, you never were.

I'm not making a big deal about the New Years kiss because I kissed someone else as well. When I saw you lead her away, I grabbed Cole by the collar of his shirt and pulled his lips onto mine. He knew how to kiss and was good at it.

And so many other things...

But I'm angry about something that I found out about only a week ago. Yeah, a week. You're probably wondering why it took me so long to write this but it's because I've been sulking all that time.

Piper Owens.

That's who I'm talking about. You remember her right? You kissed her on New Years and wasn't afraid to lead her away to a bedroom... or were you too drunk to remember the blonde that you slept with?

Well, when I was in a class, I overheard some girls in my class talk about you. And her. "Omg! Did you hear about Piper Owens?! Yeah, she totally slept with him!" They gossiped but that's not what killed me. It's what else they said.

"Apparently she was his summer fling while his girlfriend was out of state for the summer."

You cheated on me.

And you said we had only broken up because I was too good for you. And this whole time until now, I never believed it. I always looked for this small flicker of hope that maybe one day, we will get back together again.

But there's no going back from this. Last summer, I begged you to come back to Chicago with me so my little brother could practise with you. I begged for your time for only a week. I was even willing to buy the plane tickets as well.

But you didn't fucking come because you were too busy sleeping around with Piper. What does she have that I don't? Blonde hair? A tan that makes her look like she's some Instagram model from L.A? Or how about 'that great rack she has on her'?

I can't believe that I put so much trust into you and that I believed these stupid lies of you having football practise every time I wanted to call you. I want to rip her hair out and I want to stab you eyes because you've lost my trust.

I will never ever look at you the same now. Your little summer secret is out now and if in the future, you come crawling to me because she wasn't good enough anymore, I will kick you to the curb like you did with me during last summer.

Letters to my ExWaar verhalen tot leven komen. Ontdek het nu