I hope you're aren't hurting anymore. It's been two years. I loved the time we spent together. I loved you. I still love you just as much, but it's not the same. I know that if I said this around other people (and especially you), the tendency would be to take it wrong. I love you like a lifelong friend. We shared years of our lives together, and through our characters, several lives. I will never forget you and how you've changed my life.

I still meet friends we knew in high school. They ask about you. About us. What bothers me is how when I tell them about us, they always ask why. They ask it in the curious way, but ultimately they congratulate me for our lost relationship. Why? Why, I often ask myself. It took me a very long time to find the reasons, reasons I've never told you. Don't think for a second that I tell these people who know you. I do still love you. I will not slander you. But I don't need to tell them. They are, after all, only curious. In part, they already know. They already knew, they could see it when I could and would not.

When someone asks why, I recall all of the negative moments. All the reasons. They're difficult, too. It took me a long time to phrase them and to accept them. I used to give you all of the benefit of the doubt. Your flaws, for the longest time, were all but invisible to me. In truth, I tried. I was willfully blind but I still saw.

You were superior. I said it myself. You were a catch above what I could hope for. It wasn't true. I was trying to draw your attention to your arrogance in the kindest way I could. Your responce made it clear. Not for a second did you reply in kind. Not for