I was thirteen when I learned I couldn’t trust you.

I may not have been the most fun person to be around, but that never meant you could do what you did. If there was anyone I could talk to, anyone I could rely on, anyone I could trust, it would have been you.

But you took advantage of that.

You stole from me literally and mentally, robbing me not only of my belongings, but my sheer ability to have faith in people.

I should have read the signs.

No one is that self-sacrificing, that kind, or that trustworthy without a motive. You made your move when you knew I was in the palm of your hand,

Ready to be crushed, shaken, and thrown to the side. In all honesty, I applaud you. It takes a strong person to be so shamelessly manipulative.

I applaud you again, because it takes a lot of devotion to make my life so hard to enjoy. And I applaud you again, because you helped me realize that people’s impure intentions are always there, even if they’re your best friend.

I was thirteen when I learned I couldn’t trust you,

But I was also thirteen when I learned I couldn’t trust at all.