I don’t know if I cried for us. Or for you. Or perhaps it’s just for myself. I’m sad everything became what it was. Can we be back like we were before shit happened? I don’t think so.
I don’t particularly long for anything from you. I don’t even care if we lose contact. I think it’s easier for me if we were no longer friends. It was ignorant of me to think that it’s possible to downgrade unrequited love to friendship. It’s too hard for me.
I don’t think I was the caring friend that you’ve so described in your mail. My offer to be your confidante was just lip service.
I don’t want to know about your love life. Your future. Your everything. Because I know I’m not part of it.
And neither are you a part of mine.
