Part 3: The Window

This is all your fault, Amy. You did this to me.

I hope you realize that. I hope it destroys you. I want you to break when you remember me. I want you to cry like I cried. You could have stopped this from happening, but you were selfish.

Do you remember the time you told me that you fucked him in his car? You laughed when you told me. Like it was no big deal! I fucking loved you and you laughed! I used to stay up thinking about you and him. I used to fantasize about that moment with you. I used to think about our bodies pressed tightly to one another in that car, synchronizing in awkward positions. I'd suck the sweat off your nipples, run my fingers through your hair, make you come. And you loved me.

I pretended not to care when you told me. I smiled and brushed it off, but I want you to know that it hurt worse than anything that's ever happened to me. It was worse than when you told me you had sucked off the guy in that band - Jim or Jake or whatever his fucking name was. I told you you would do it too. You're so predictable! Shallow. Materialistic bitch.

You never gave a shit about me. You used me. For what?

You were so messed up when I met you. A fucked up little girl, and here I was, this nice guy who actually cared. I took care of you. I took you out when you wanted to get away. I stayed up until 4 o'clock listening to you when you needed someone to confide in. I defended you to everyone and you never fucking cared.

I loved you, Amy. I still love you.

You told me you loved me once. It was one of the best days of my life. It was just once.

It's such a strange thing to say only once. Sometimes I think you said it just so I'd stick around. So you could keep using me. It's as if you had orchestrated this whole relationship for your personal gain. Like you knew exactly what to say, what to do to keep me at your feet. We had a song. I'd sing the guy's part and you'd sing the girl's. That always used to make me feel as if you actually loved me back. That was probably the plan. I go back and forth on it now. Did you love me? I know you said it, but I just don't know. Those times, those moments that we spent together. That felt like love to me. That felt real. And yet every time I would try to kiss you or move in closer on your couch you'd back away, keep me at arm's length. It used to always make me feel awful, like a failure, pathetic. I kept telling myself that you were playing me, kept telling myself to move on. You always made me think twice.

The fact that it was you that finally walked away was the worst part. I couldn't even do that on my own. You always had the upper hand. Maybe that's why I'm doing this. Maybe this is me finally asserting myself, letting you know that you have absolutely no control over me. Not anymore.

Whatever this turns out to be, remember that you caused every part of it. Hell, you practically begged for all of this to happen. You asked for all of it. I hope you're happy. I will be soon.

The breeze is growing stronger. You look so beautiful. Even now.