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“It’s not that it didn’t mean anything. It’s just that it didn’t mean what I was told it was supposed to…

I need you to know that, no matter what you thought of me then or think of me now, that it wasn’t meaningless. I loved you but not in way “they” told me I was supposed to. I loved your dick. I loved going for drives with you. I loved the look on your face when you would make me orgasm. I loved sitting on a blanket with you, watching fireworks and holding hands. I loved the look on your face when I would make you cum. I loved you when we shared a bottle of Southern Comfort and talked about whether we saw god or witnessed our brains dying when we were high. I loved you when you would hold my face in your hands when you kissed me after. I loved when you would spend the night. I loved you when you would let yourself out before I woke up so I wouldn’t have to explain to anyone why you were there.

I loved you when you showed up because I said: “I need you now.” I loved you when you didn’t tell your friends about the whore that let you fuck her for free. I loved you when you broke up with me when we were high because there was no future and then we spent the next two days together in bed for the same reason. I loved you when you didn’t get mad that I fucked your friend because I loved him too. I loved you when you didn’t hit me when you were angry. I loved you when you did hit me but didn’t try to stop me from leaving and never spoke to me again.”

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