I don't miss you. Don't think that.

I miss how close of a fucking friendship we had. Sharing parents. Houses. Fanfictions. Everything. I miss having that kind of friendship. But maybe that's because now I'm older, and no one, not even myself, has time for doing much of anything.

Or perhaps it was because we were so unique together that I never really noticed how distant I became to others...

You were poison, but it was sweet until I started suffocating. Or maybe you weren't fatal at all, and I was just choking on you as I consumed too much... Maybe it was both. Maybe you're not fatal until in large quantities...

Maybe having too much on my plate all at once has finally started getting to me... Making me miss how close a suffocating friendship we had.

You once asked me, quietly... "I try too hard, don't I?"

Maybe I should have been honest with you. Except... I already was. Earlier, when I figured it out. Late at night, or early in the morning, whichever it was... However late it may be, perhaps you'll see this honest response, too late to make a difference.

Yes. You tried far too hard to get something I didn't want. I won't say you didn't want it either, because I know you rather did for a while.

I was immature, acting far older than even my wise personality was capable of being.

I was greedy. I'll readily admit it. But you should too. You hoarded me and my friendship much like the beast you pose as. I used you, and you used me, but our uses were vastly different.

I was hurting. Obviously not as much as I have been recently, but the hurt just increases with age and overall stress. Not because of the specific events between us. Mental illness is a bitch, and I know you know this.

I was freshly single, in the middle of our time together. So I hurt even worse than I had been beforehand. Maybe that was a big part of why I didn't want what you tried to pressure us into. I'm not entirely sure I'm ready for that, even now.

I'm petty. Many times, I am petty, and I accept that. Maybe you can be sometimes, too. Maybe not. I don't know you anymore.

Many times I have cheered at some of your small losses or failures. Even with underlying sorrow that I can't seem to be rid of completely. Many times I've also been grudgingly proud, even though I wish I wasn't. Again, that sorrow is still there, underneath. Louder than in my pettiness.

I do wish you would say you're sorry. And I do wish I would say I'm sorry. It probably wouldn't make much of a difference, if it made one at all. It might relieve the both of us, some. Then again, it might not. Emotions are fickle that way.

I'm a coward. I'm prideful. I'm stubborn.

I want to say, "Sometimes, so are you." Or, were, I guess. But that might cause more bad blood between us. I'd rather not have that all anew, thanks.

I want to say "fuck you" and "I'm sorry" all at the same time. But obviously, it's too late for that now. All I can do now is write this open letter.

To you. To myself. To anyone in a similar situation. Or one completely different.

Maybe someday this will mean something. Right now, I just hope it means relief for me.

After all, I've admitted to being Greedy.