Once upon a time, I had a friend who said she loved me and that she would be true to me no matter what.
But I guess she didn’t mean it because, to her, being popular turned out to be more important than friendship.
Some of her friends didn’t like me, and she wanted to be in their favour, so she started to turn against me.
She thought of ways to hurt me, maybe because she couldn’t possess me anymore, maybe because she was jealous of me, maybe because she wanted to impress her friends.
She told people nasty things about me, some true, some not.
I’m not perfect. But she forgot that she isn’t perfect herself.