I painted myself to be the victim, and you as the abuser; the bad guy without a heart. I blamed you for everything that went wrong. For the pain, sleepless nights, and all the nights I was awake at 2 a.m., soaking my pillow with tears caused by a broken heart.

It was nothing personal. I just didn’t want to be responsible for one more thing that went wrong in my life. I needed someone to take the fall and I thought you were that someone. When in reality we were both victims of destiny and fate. I don’t understand why destiny and fate never thought of having a meeting and have a discussion about us and actually come to an agreement that works for all of us involved. Instead, they just went and did their thing separately.

Destiny allowed us to meet, and fall in love. And not just that, but madly and passionately so. It allowed us to share inside jokes, laugh our lungs out together. Just one look in each other’s eyes and we would know exactly what the other was thinking. It allowed all that and more, knowing there was no way for us to be together forever like we hoped we would be.

And fate just made things worse. It allowed my mind to build a nest made of thoughts of you. That made it hard to replace them with thoughts of someone else. It made it hard for you to have a place in my heart and not in my life. Fate allowed us to make memories that are deeply engraved in our minds, hearts and souls, knowing that in the end, we would have to go our separate ways. And finally, accept our fate as strangers.

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