Betrayal Hurts

You know what's strange? I keep rehearsing what I'd say to you, and it never comes out clean. So here it is, messy.
I trusted you with things I don't hand out easily. My worst days. My actual plans, not the ones I tell people to sound impressive. And you took that and used it when it suited you. You knew exactly what would hurt and you said it anyway, to someone who'd repeat it.

I keep asking myself if I missed something. Some sign you were capable of this. I don't think I did. I think you just decided I was less important than whatever you got out of it. That's the part I can't get past. Not the betrayal itself, but how easy it seemed for you.

I'm not writing this to fix anything between us. I don't think there's anything left to fix. I'm writing it because I've replayed our friendship a hundred times, looking for the moment it turned, and I need to stop doing that. So this is me putting it down.

I hope whatever you needed from hurting me was worth it. I doubt it was.
I'm not angry every day anymore. Some days I just feel stupid for not seeing it sooner. Other days I miss who I thought you were, which isn't the same as missing you.

I won't send this. You don't get my words anymore. You used up your share.