I met other guys. I slept in their bed. I called them my own. I didn’t feel bad because I told myself that I had already forgotten you. I thought I was moving on because you left a long time ago, and it seemed to me that I could not suffer for you for so long.
Not that I deliberately took someone’s head. I did not lie about the fact that I liked them. I found them attractive. I thought they were fun. I enjoyed spending time with them.
I have never really compared them to you. I never thought that the taste of your lips is better, or that I prefer your laugh. Part of me did not realize that you were still the one I wanted, because I drove you out of my thoughts. It was too painful to think about you.
I never repeated your name. I never lost our memories, even when I was lonely. I never let you slip into my subconscious.
I did not think secretly about you while I kissed another. I didn’t want you to be there instead of someone. I was quite good with those other guys. No, I was not happy. But it was good.
I tried not to think why I didn’t feel with them what I felt with you, because you were no longer there, and you were not going to return. I did not ask myself these questions because I didn’t want to hear the answers. I did not want to admit that I liked you more than someone new could have liked.
But over time, I'm tired of pretending.
When you wrote to me, my heart jumped out of my chest. I have never felt anything like this with anyone else. I'd rather see your name on my screen than feel someone else near.
I finally realized that all those other guys meant something to me, but you meant everything to me. I could hold hands with them and travel, but it did not bring me such pleasure as our meetings with you.
I hurt many nice guys because of you. I broke hearts because of you. I hated myself because of you.
In the depths of my soul, I knew that it was my fault. I knew that I should be responsible for my actions, but then I did not realize that I was hurting someone. I lived a lie that I believed in myself. I pretended to be someone else, someone who has never met you, who has never been hopelessly in love with you.
I had to be honest with myself from the start.I had to admit that it hurt me, to accept this pain, because it would prevent me from hurting others. It would be better for everyone.
I just want you to know that maybe I met other guys, maybe I kissed other guys, slept with them, but the truth is that I only wanted you. Always only you.