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.