I’m sorry for how I treated you, how I never appreciated how you did everything for me. How you respected me and always let me make up my own mind. The little things. I do think you’ll do better than me and I can’t lie but it’s finally starting to sink in that you’re not mine. And that is why I’m sorry. Because I’m selfish.
I love the way you laugh, but not enough to get attached. I love the way you hide behind your attitude but speak the truth in bed. I love the way you act so fearless, but God knows you’re scared of everything. Most of all I love how you managed to string me along just enough, just the right amount to question myself. But it’ll never stick because I love myself more than your words and how you turn them to me for the season.