It's funny... You say she was a better match for you than I. You loved her more than me. But all I ever heard is how miserable she made you. You'd beg me to convince her to stay with you, and you did for all the things I begged you to do for years...
I left you, and there were weeks of you crying how miserable and lonely you were. You couldn't wait for me to change my mind and go back to someone who used me up. She left, and you're singing from the rooftops about how happy you are without her.
Our marriage's death began when you couldn't forgive me for something I almost did, but didn't. You couldn't be quicker to forgive her repeatedly.
Did you truly love her more? Or was she just the one that made you see how trapped and hurt I was by you? I will never be your wife again, but you know that my love for you will never die. I hated seeing you suffer like that, either time. But just now, I wonder if you truly know what it is to love someone. Or do you only know your own need?
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