“You were never good at pretending,” she says. I want to laugh because the only thing I’ve done with her since I was eighteen is pretend. Pretend I didn’t feel anything for her. Pretend it didn’t kill me every time she started dating some jerk who was no fucking good for her. Pretend she wasn’t everything to me. Pretend it didn’t gut me to leave her. Pretend I’m over her. Pretend, pretend, pretend.
