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Nicholas Sparks didn't write my love life. (A letter to my ex)

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Dear John,
You said you loved her in
your caption on Instagram. That

picture is the reason I followed you
again. I’m in love with my new

boyfriend, but that still doesn’t stop
me from thinking why I wasn’t

enough for you. A year on and off
with me and you were “almost”

there. You’re the only one of them
all that didn’t fall. I don’t know why

this is so upsetting considering you
cheated on me twice in the same

week with two different girls; I didn’t
even love you. But that’s not what I

said when we got drunk that one
night of spring break and we spent

the night on a rock overlooking the
city; You held my hand on the way

home. I still don’t remember much.
What I do remember is that you had

always told me you’d be there for
me and that’s still true. Maybe that’s

the reason I had always gone back
to you. I hate that I go back to you.

You scribbled “do you even try as
hard as I do” in the book I lent you.

It took me a year to get it back.
Dear John, I miss you.

Dear John, I shouldn’t speak to you.
Dear John, I need to.

Dear John, I love him now and I don’t
care how many snapchats you

send me I won’t open a single one.
Dear John, you love her. Act like it.

Dear John, you were my best friend
and the worst thing to ever happen

to me and I’m actually glad you
cheated on me; I expected it.

Dear John, my mother still hates you;
So do all my friends.

Dear John, thank you.

Dear John, I’m over you.



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