Dear you,

I have no idea how our friendship started, but I know how it ended.

I. Messed. Up.

And there we went, our separate ways. You led your life, while I tried to rebuild mine.

At the end of a 2 year silence, we finally broke that silence and we started talking. I craved for your friendship like a lonely man craves for companionship, or a dying man craving for that one chance to re-live his life. I didn't know how much I hurt you until you told me exactly what you were feeling.

Did you know on that Friday, I kneeled down in-between the aisles of the main hall, put my head down on the floor and cried?

Did you know that for the next four days, I was wrecked with guilt and shame and disgust of my actions? That I had finally grasped what Godly sorrow was?

No, you didn't. I am 100% sure.

I don't know what to say to you now. I really don't because if I do, I'd be spewing very, very mean words.

But please, stop using me and throwing me away when your best friend has finally come back.

If you just wanted to use me as a god damned cushion so that you can bounce back when the time was right, just tell me straight in the face.

Because I am determined to hate you from now on.

But you know I can't, because I love you.