There is no such thing as getting used.
When you can predict something happening, you’re making a choice.
And you chose to see him.
When he kissed you for the first time, he did not use you.
At the time he did nothing but kiss you.
Nor did he use you by the touch of his hands, or the smell of his skin.
He did not use you.
The words he spelled with eager on the tips of his fingers, they did not use you.
Despite a charming idea also called lie where he would oh so definitely text you back, you were not being used.
You were simply stupid enough to once ever more trust someone your smarter half is running away from with it’s breath in it’s throat.
Your other half controlled by your heart was also running but it was right into his arms.

You were not used.
Not when he said he liked you.
Nor when he made you say it back.
He did not use you.
Nobody did, except for maybe yourself.