I didn’t know what to feel about you on day one. You were charming and friendly towards me. More friendly than I should ever have deserved. I don’t know why you persisted through my introverted nature. I don’t know why you pursued our friendship despite my reclusive antics. You did a lot for me–a lot more than you may think. I may not have expressed it adequately, but you helped me through a dark, dark time in my life. I don’t know how I would’ve handled that summer without you. You were there for me… You never let me fall, and I admire that.

You were the first person to really ever express love towards me. Just when I felt I was falling for you, you took me into your arms and spilled the mad love you had bottled up for months onto me. Our love burned wildly… Blended into a wonderful and soft harmony.

I was actually a priority in your life. I don’t really know why you felt this way, but you did. I meant something to you. To one person, I wasn’t a last resort. It felt like everything was gonna be okay. For once, I felt elated to be alive.

In those golden days, I had mentioned to you that sometimes I felt expendable. You’d take my hand, look me straight in the eyes and tell me I wasn’t expendable with a warm smile.

Little did I know, however, that despite your claims, you could indeed afford to lose me. I, however, couldn’t afford to lose you.

Not too terribly long after that, you completely and utterly abandoned me. You discarded me.

I don’t mean a goddamn thing to you anymore. I don’t hate you for it. I don’t. I grew complacent, I guess. I was blinded—drunken, even—by the fact that I desperately didn’t want to lose you. We grew too close for our own good. When human infatuation grows too tight, it might just snap in a terrible, painful episode.

The day after you bore the news that we were breaking up, I was grieving quietly at home while you were having a lovely time at the movies with him.

It’s been three months since that day, and I’m still torn up inside. I—I love you, Madi. I still do, but you don’t love me anymore. That’s okay, I guess. That’s okay. Through the war with myself, I really just want you to be happy. That’s all I want. I stopped caring about myself a long time ago.