When you cheat, the truth comes out. Always. You can deny it. You can lie. You can pretend you're a victim. You can throw song lyrics at me, and tell me, "We're both good people, it just didn't work." No. Here's how it is: I am a good person. YOU are not. You pursued a married woman. In the end, you got her. A divorced version of her. You had her. It was too much. So, you pursued another girl. Behind my back. You're a piece of shit. I was suspicious of her from day one. DAY ONE.
On day one, you denied it. On the last day, you denied it.
Here we are, three months later, and the truth comes out. You pursued her. She went for it. And you betrayed me. For how long, I don't know. While we played Bug Bowl in the snow across from your apartment, did you think of her? As I wept on the floor while you walked out of my apartment, were you relieved? Because you could go to her?
All her friends think you're a douchebag. "The jerk," they say. Because you screwed HER over.
I loved you. You were my love, you left me for her, and SHE got "screwed" in the end.
I assume you're alone now. Don't have her. Don't have me. I take comfort in that.
I'm over you. I've moved on. But this news stabbed me in the chest. You betrayed me, and you can live with that knowledge. You left a trail of people in pain on your escapade, and you can live with that knowledge.
I don't know you. I don't want to know you. The good memories have been washed away, and replaced with disgust. For you.
In the end, you got away with it. I hope you're miserable.
You are a piece of shit.