I am sorry.

I am sorry if you thought that I tore you apart. I am sorry if you could only remember me as the girl who took your heart out and spit it back at your face.

I am sorry if I was the one who made you who you are now.

It's not that I didn't know what I was doing. I knew. I knew the stuff I did to you hurt like hell.

If you must know, I did everything on purpose.

Like that moment I stopped writing you back and ignored your every attempt at reconciliation.

And that moment you gave me that stuffed toy as a birthday gift and I gave it to my gay best friend, making sure you saw him [her....whatever] playing with it.

Or when I forced you to buy me that expensive pizza.

Or that time you invited me to drink and the whole time I spent talking to your cute best friend.

When I tolerated the long midnight phone calls so you could give me a copy of your precious software.

When I told you I liked you.

When I made you give me your homework.

When I showed you my poem and hinted it was about you when it really wasn't.

And especially when I stood you up on your birthday even after 13 missed calls and I accidentally-on-purpose sent you a text saying I spent the night drinking with another guy and that I [almost] felt sorry for you...my favorite scheme so far.

The thing is...I had planned everything from the very beginning. I'm not stupid you know. I had long since deciphered your hints and clues even before you figured it out for yourself. Yep, I knew how you felt about me and I was playing dumb the whole time. I'm good at that.

Knowledge is quite burdensome. Only now have I fully understood how ignorance could be bliss. From the moment I knew what was about to happen, I had to act. I had to do something to stay away from any upcoming disaster that was the two of us.

You have to understand that I did all those bad things to prevent the worst from happening. I foresaw the fact that we were simply not meant to be and allowing destiny to lay out his cards for us so we both could get hurt just ain't my style.

I didn't plan to do everything outright of course. I did compatibility tests [from personality quizzes to zodiac preferences] and experiments [remember those brief moments I spent actually talking to you?]. I gather enough data and decide whether I should rip your heart out or not.

And I did.

Why the elaborate scheming? Because I didn't want you to get hurt by the truth: I don't think we're good together. I've never been a big fan of the truth. I'd rather have you think that I'm a bitch and you deserve better than you realizing that you weren't good enough [and you're not...sort of]. Hell, I should know. I spent my whole life thinking I wasn't good enough for ANYONE because somebody said so.

I just did't want the same thing to happen to you.

So yeah. I'm sorry. Although I meant to destroy you, it was for your own good. I just hope you kept your self-worth at the expense of my conscience [for I do spend sleepless nights going over all that I have done]. I pray that my "reverse-psychology" planning wasn't in vain.

If it makes any difference, I really did like you.