But it's not. It's addressed to you. He roughed me up during sex, he said I couldn't be respected because I was a slut, he told me I was immature, and he said he only liked to have me around because I was convenient and I laughed at his jokes. He made sure it was difficult for me to tell anyone, and it already was, because we shared a best friend, who was you. How could I tell you what he did? I was so afraid I would lose everything. And you know what? I was right to be afraid. Because I told you, and you said you would rather not know. Because when I was hurt, you chalked it up to me being obsessed and in love with him rather than very hurt by someone with a lot of power who scared me and threatened to take away my friends. And so I reached out to other people, and they were confused, so they asked you... and you said that you had no idea what I was talking about. You allowed me to become a crazy bitch liar for the sake of your "best friendship" with a man who was abusive and cruel to me. And I sat with you through your depression and anxiety a couple years ago, while he never even bothered to ask what was going on.
Him, you, and our former group of friends—people I once cared for—are the most spineless, shitless, disgusting asswipes I have ever met in my life. And I'm sorry I spent any time with you.
But it's all my fault, right? I trapped him into this. That's what you meant, right? I trapped him into being rough with me. You're totally right: I should really take responsibility for what I've done. The problem was me.