You don't get to call me whore.

When I met you, I thought I had found the person that I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I was done. So all the boys, and all the dreams, and all the other obvious issues, who cared? Because I was done. You left me. You chose her. I'm all glued back together now. I make no apologies for how I chose to repair what you broke.
You don't get to call me a whore.