You had almost two years, I had ten months. Perhaps, it’s useless to write about you again knowing the chances of you reading or even finding out that this is about you.

After almost a year of stillness, I find your website once again in my ask box. I wonder, did you leave it there? Or did he? Or was it someone else? We all prefer to live in oblivion than in irrelevant dark truth. But there it is again, haunting me, hopefully, for the last time.

I am speaking to you for the last time. Maybe, this time, I’d give it back to you, fucks you’ve denied, but fucks you’ve given.

Does it matter now? Does it matter still? You always claim you know things. Well, we all tend to do so. But what did you really know? I know you would never dare to find out what happened or care to clarify. We believe in the truth we created for ourselves. It’s way easier than to believe that someone else out there is trying to mess things up. We believe what seems believable, what we deem logical, what you think is true but I know isn’t. Go ahead, I won’t stop you. I never was able to do so anyway.

Would it give you the satisfaction if I claim it all? If I’d tell you you were right all along? Or would you think I’m still playing anonymous games? You wouldn’t care. Again, we believe what we want to, regardless if it makes us happy. So go ahead, think what you want to think. After all, we both are over him. If you want the satisfaction you are trying to give me, be my guest.

Because he never had me. I had him, but he never had me. That probably wouldn’t be of help, would it? To know that someone who doesn’t care gets that person who used to be your world.

It’s over. It shouldn’t matter.