oh. number one hundred and forty-seven.

when we met, i was engaged to someone else but i knew the second that you said hello that you were in love with me. i didn't like you very much, because i knew that your constant bragging was all a lie and i hated the way that you couldn't admit you were wrong. but it didn't matter because we lived hundreds of miles away from each other, and only saw each other at the occasional party when i returned to visit my family.

after three years of being casual acquaintances, my engagement ended (thank goodness i didn't marry him) and i returned to the city where you lived, tail between my legs, to stay with my family while i figured out what to do next. we started spending more and more time together, making my best friend jealous, and eventually you stopped making up stories to impress me. you were so sweet, kind, and supportive - i'll never forget how you drove to my college to pick me up and drive me to my car, because it was raining.

my biggest mistake was telling you i loved you. seven years later, we are married. you are cold, withdrawn, and angry. i am trapped in two relationships - the one i thought i had, and the one i actually have. i wish i had let you just love me from afar forever.

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