I am 27 years old. It has taken me a long time to write this. You are not allowed in my life. I allowed it for too long. What you did was not acceptable or excusable. It shouldn’t be forgivable either but carrying that kind of anger in your heart can tear you apart. So I do forgive what you did to me because you are sick and fucked up. But that does not make it go away. That does not reverse the years of damage or make it somehow more tolerable. The hard truth is that every time I was around you after I told what happened, you made me sick. I never want to see you again. You took my innocence. My path in life could’ve been so different had you not done what you did. I will not be there when you get sick. I will not be there when you die. I will not be at your funeral. I will not cry for you. I realize now that the relationships I’ve had up until this point were directly related to how you, and my father, treated me. Though I highly doubt you do, I hope you regret your sick choices and decisions and I hope you know that I have no love for you, only pity and disgust.
from, the girl you almost broke.