I used to say things that made it seem like I didn't love you. I still say them. I'm sorry.
They're ways I try to keep myself from loving you and hurting me. If I said, "There's no one who knows me like my family," and drive you away from my mind, then when the day comes that you hurt me, I would be hurt less. Because I didn't love you.
The problem with this is that I loved you and none of it--none of the lies, none of the vapid comparisons--none of these things ever worked. And when you finally hurt me. I never expected the pain to be so great and so deep.