a letter to you.

we stopped texting as much.

our last facetime was

3 months

3 weeks

and 6 days ago.

you were my best friend.

or, at least, i was yours.

maybe it’s my fault;

i never felt connected to you,

like i had to be your best friend.

to help you.

to heal you.

to comfort you.

but who was there for me?

when i was sad.

or angry.

or hopeless.

i started to become my own best friend.

talking to myself

the way i should be able to talk to you.

in theory, it sounds empowering.

like self love.

but it’s rather lonely.

and self pity.

maybe this is the end

and we both know it.