That time of the year again.

Dear You,
I shouldn't be hurt, but I am. It was ok for me to move on but not you. You told me yourself that you had moved on. I should be proud of that admission. But I had loved you.
--Me.

Dear You,
I shouldn't be hurt, but I am. I wish you would have told me that she was sick. But you did apologize for that omission. For that, I loved you.
--Me.

Dear You,
I shouldn't be hurt, but I am. You told me that I was the only one but she told me that I wasn't. And then you lied. And I hated you.
--Me.

Dear Me,
You shouldn't be hurt but you are. You live by a set of mantras and rules that seldom make sense. For as strongly as you are convicted by one means, you remain ambivalent to another. You are a love/hate relationship.
--Me.