Dear Friend

Dear friend,

I've always had a thing with you, being a supposed friend.

I suppose it started when I was DUMPED by my best friend in the whole universe, when I was around 13. So it left a mark - get over it, I must tell myself. But like all scars, it's there, ingrained in my brain and hard to ignore when I think of you and what you mean.

I have a hard time opening up to you, or anyone for that matter. And I'm OK with that. I'd rather YOU talk about YOU and let me leave my lovely, chaotic rush of a world behind for a while anyhow. You're more interesting than anything that's in my computer screen of a brain, OK? I'm serious. I LIKE interacting with you, friend. You're interesting to me. Lovely.

But who are you, really? Pretending to care about whatever clever thing I try to write on facebook doesn't count. YOU, whom I used to be excited about calling me and waking me up at 7am on my birthday will now only text me - "happy birthday."

What's happened here? Where have you gone?

When something happens in my life that's exciting, you used to be excited too.

I cannot pretend anymore that it doesn't bother me. I can't pretend anymore I don't care. I'm a Scorpio, and Scorpios are sensitive creatures that are deeply touched by anything that moves. My goal is to now be touched, but not affected my your lack of existence.

I'll always care about you, friend, but like all good indulgences - it must come to an end.