You cross my mind every day.
Not because I want you there. You’re more of a mold, something that’s been spreading and choking me out ever since the day I met you.
I miss you and I don’t know why. I think it’s less of wanting who you are now, versus wanting the boy I met.
He was a sweetheart. My best friend.
Part of me still loves you. Part of me misses the way you made me feel loved. Part of me wants my best friend back.
But I know that I’ll find a love greater than yours someday. Not because I particularly deserve it, but because I refuse to believe that the best love I’ll ever have is the man who assaulted me. That’s what my best friend turned into. I’ll never forgive you for that.
I wish you the best, Andy. Burn in Hell, Andrew.