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January 4, 2011
I keep asking myself Vivi's question over and over again. "Are you sorry? I hope you are. But for who? You, who should have said, or her, who suffered through it all?"

I wonder that, too.

It feels like he just let me go, never looked back. Like the moment he was caught, every confession was a lie. Every tender moment was shrouded in shadows, and the labor he did to keep my in the dark surpassed any kind of genuine feelings he used to have.

What was I worth in the end?

I wish I wouldn't ask any questions.