When I broke up with you, I made myself empty. I ignored the feelings that I had for you so that I could be strong. Then I lied, trying to make myself believe that you were nothing good for me. Even though we were still friends, I treated you harshly. You asked me to see a school play with you and I refused, saying, "Why would I watch people I don't know in a play I don't care about with my ex girlfriend?" You asked to be driven home from school and I replied, "I'm not your boyfriend anymore, so I'm not obligated to go out of my way to save you a short walk." I refused to go out of my way to make you happy, and that stung you.
On top of that, I complained about you to other people. I said that you ran off on me with a lesbian. I told people that all you did with me was use my computer and have me do chores. I sighed that you never bothered to be intimate with me. I moaned that you would always yell at me or hit me. Good riddance, I claimed! But that claim was a lie to them and to myself, because they were exaggerated and partial truths. I refused to acknowledge the rest of what we had, of what I felt.
I can only imagine that you're doing the same to me now. You're trying as I did to leave us behind. You've pushed me away by not talking to me at all. You probably tell yourself and your acquaintances that I'm just a nutjob pervert and life is so much better without me. If you are saying that, I forgive you. I know just what it's like to think that it's best to paint our picture in ugly hues.