I don’t hate you even if you tried to burn his soul so no other person can love him again. Even if you tried hard to break him so that his scars would run deep and ghastly. I don’t hold grudges because I get it. It happened before he knew I existed. I don’t have any right to pry on your own stories. Just like you don’t have any right to meddle with ours.
Stop being conceited. Stop telling everyone you’re his greatest love and what you had can never be surpassed. Stop acting as if there’s a competition between us because if there is, clearly, I emerged victorious. Stop being our shadows. Stop sneaking into our lives because we’re living in a world where you don’t exist. Or supposed not to exist.
He moved on… to me. Hard to accept but this means, you have to move on too. And I hope to someone who’ll make you happier and loved. To someone who will become your one true love. Because he isn’t.
You said you pity me. For picking up his burnt pieces. From taking in your leftovers.
Don’t pity me. Because I’d rather be with him from his downfalls to his recovery; from stitching his broken pieces to holding it on my hands like a fragile porcelain guarding it with my whole life. Because you know what? This is the one thing that you failed to realize – he is damn worth keeping. And I will.