Fuck you. How dare you tell me all those things, make all those promises, if there was even the slightest chance that you wouldn’t come through?

How fucking dare you fuck up the closest thing I’ve had to a relationship since you left, only to leave me high and dry and broken again?

How DARE you tell me how unhappy you were, how much you wished I was her, how badly you wanted to be with me instead, how you were going to end it with her and then come here and be with me at Christmas — and then break all your promises?

How fucking COULD you?

Eight months. How could you?

Fuck you.

Never again. A promise written in stone.