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January 7, 2011
I loved you most during that winter. Remember? When I ran off with that other man? You thought I was using you. An escape from an escape. An excuse to stay home. A risk to stop myself from making risky decisions. You asked me if I loved you.

I loved you. I hate you. I love you still. I look at your picture, and I miss you. But you were right. I was using you. Didn't mean to, honey, but that's how all my stories end. Didn't mean to. Didn't mean to.

Baby doll, just know, I didn't mean to.