You recently asked me if I still loved you, and I lied.

Of course I do, I will always love you, but you are not good for me and we can never be together as a couple again.

You admitted that you were in love with me but never knew how to tell me or what to do about it- and yet you seem to get great enjoyment out of hurting me, of hating me.

So, I thought we could be friends, we have a connection of sorts, I genuinely care about you and want you in my life – you have said the same to me but once again – you are so quick to accuse me of things I haven’t done on the say so of people you’ve known for only a short time.

We’ve known each other for almost 3 years now? You should know that I wouldn’t ever do the things you accuse me of – I have no bad feelings towards you, despite all the hurt you’ve caused me. I don’t know why you keep sabotaging our friendship – that you have claimed to cherish. You tell lies about me to your current flings, you tell them everything personal about me – things I have told you in confidence – to make yourself feel good and that is the worst betrayal I’ve ever felt.

You have broken and continue to break my heart into tiny little pieces and I don’t think I am capable of ever falling in love again – to give someone else that power to destroy me.

I am in a new relationship and he makes me very happy, but I’m not sure if I’m ever going to be able to love him (or any other man) as much as I loved you – because it literally broke me – you broke me, destroyed my spirit, my confidence, my self esteem, my judgement, my ability to love.

I know when your current fling is over (if it’s not already) – you will want to contact me again – you always do, but this time I cannot let you back into my life, this time I have to say no. I can never trust you again, I can never offer you friendship again. And that makes me so sad, because I will miss you like crazy – I already do.

You will never be happy J – until you can start acting like a real man and treat women with the respect and love they deserve.



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