I know that you used to love her. You admired her once. She was everything to you. She got your heart. You kissed her on her forehead. You told her that you loved her from the bottom of your heart. You told her that she was special. One af a kind.
Never have I ever believed that it would matter at all.
She’s the ghost who will never disappear. The woman who turns op again and again and each time increases the pain.
I want her out af my live. Out of ours.