I know that you know me. However, I owe you absolutely no explanation. I’m in no way, shape, or form obligated to elaborate on anything. It is something that’s been ongoing for half a decade now and has become very much a portion of my life. It’s something so fictional, so overplayed, that I’ve tricked myself into it being a stem of my reality, a marker on my timeline. That’s what novelists do, right? BE the character, live the character. It’s not something I’m proud of, for the fictional aspect of it, but I’ve accomplished a lot of stability by being that “first boyfriend” and that “first love,” without all of the bullshit.
She’s happy now and she’s learned a lot. And I’m glad that I could pretend to be there for her. We’ll always be best friends.