Tom Kaulitz —" Bad Boyfriend"

𝔒ur relationship was what many people looked for. She loved me, and I loved her. Not to brag, but we both looked like Greek gods, a dream couple no one could question with a "Why is she or he dating someone so ugly?" We deserved each other. Or so everyone said. I know it's not true.

I wasn’t good for her. I was the cause of her insecurities whenever I talked to other girls. "They're just my friends," I’d say, even if I had just met them and was only trying to flirt. Still, she believed me. Not because she was stupid, but because she was innocent. I love her, I know I do, I just don't know how to love. How do you love someone when you had your first girlfriend at nine years old? I was addicted to girls, and I couldn't help it. I hated loving her. I hated not feeling the same for other girls.

Sometimes she made me sick, always clinging to me, not caring if I glared her angry or sighed in annoyance. She wouldn't leave. She just sat there, quietly, assuming I didn’t feel like talking. I hated how she took everything to heart too. She didn’t get offended or throw tantrums— she believed every word. If I told her she was selfish, she believed it. If I told her she didn’t seem to love me, she would apologize. If I said she looked fat, she would stop eating.

I couldn't take it anymore. I know I’m the problem. I’m the one who ruined everything. She just listened, agreed, too innocent and gentle to ever question me. I couldn’t keep hurting her. Not anymore.

—"Just... let's cut it off before we drown, okay? I don't really like it but I think you need to leave..."—
I told her when she protested after hearing me say, "we're over."