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The 15th was the day that it all spilled over. I'd kept it all in my gut for four long years, but THAT day it overfilled. I said the things I'd been holding under my tongue for so long. Sometimes, I had forgotten those words were there. But they were. Blocking my voicebox. Taking up space in my lungs. Until I couldn't breathe without worrying that they might slip out.
And when you disturbed me on THAT day, they did.
"You lied."
You did lie. It's not like I hadn't noticed. But you still denied it. I wasn't going to tell anyone. I wasn't going to use it. I wasn't going to ruin you.
But I just got tired. Of keeping your secret behind my lips. So I let you know that I knew. So that maybe maybe I could rid my life of you.
But I didn't know it was a package deal.
I didn't say anything.
I didn't tell anyone.
But you told many. You told them more than what was. You created a story. And I had to watch as my world of people kept their nose in that book.
It was not a good day. THAT day, was the worst of my life. But don't be fooled. It had nothing to do with you or your words.
A day when I needed the friends that you were all supposed to be, but never were. I thought MAYBE, someone might notice my loss. MAYBE that day would be different. MAYBE I might feel supported as I mourned the loss him.
How wrong I was to think "maybe."
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