You must forgive me my desire to write to you; it has become something of a habit of mine. I think what I will miss most are the conversations we will never have.

I beg your forgiveness for anything I have done to hurt you, and can only ask that you remember old times, for my sake, and remember me fondly. I know I was not an easy friend to have and, for my part, I could not have hoped for a better friend. It was my greatest joy to be your friend, even for only this short time. I understand that my demons are too much to ask anyone to bear with me, but I ask that you think of me with some indulgence; I never meant to hurt you, and if I had any way of being an easier and better friend to have I would have done it. 

I must confess that I am not altogether surprised at how things have come to be; I think I have always known, deep down, that I am not the sort of person who can make you happy. I think I always knew that we were so different and at such different times of our lives, and I think I always knew it would end too soon and too badly; but I barged ahead anyway, because that's just what I do. They say that Anne Boleyn must have known for a time her fate; I think I had my Anne Boleyn moment. For my part, I have no regrets. I would do it all again if I had the chance. 

As for me, I am somewhat broken; I will make no attempt to hide it because nobody can live their life guiltless and that includes you. I have learned now not to believe people when they say that they love me, or that they will never think badly of me, or that they will not leave me. You said them all and one by one they have proven false and I am not entirely sure who to blame. But I will try my hardest not to let my bitterness and resentment colour my memory of you; I am trying to preserve the things I think of to keep me going as best I can, unsullied so that I may always think fondly of the time I was your friend. If I can accomplish that then all this would have been worth it. 

I am selfish and arrogant enough to hope that you will not forget me; I hope you will remember that when you were seventeen you used to drop everything and run to the little girl who cried. I hope you will remember all the little moments that are so precious to me, and remember all the times you made me smile. I had hoped to enjoy your big warm hugs and your beautiful smile for a little while longer, but I will always remember you fondly and I hope, after all that has been between us, when you see me you can give me your smile. I hope you remember that I loved you sincerely and genuinely tried to care for you as best as I could.  

I wish nothing but the best for you; I hope that you stay good and safe and be happy. If I could offer you some advice, it is only to say that you should not live your life attempting to minimize your pain, or the pain of others. You are doing yourself a great disservice, and you do others a great disservice even when I know you always mean well. Things hurt because they matter. Things hurt because they mean something, and that is an important thing to acknowledge to yourself. I am hurting, badly, now, but I will be okay. It hurts because you mattered, and although I am not glad of the tears I am glad to be living a life filled with people who matter. Being your friend, like most things I have done in my life, hurt beyond belief; but you have to live life to the fullest, even if that means experiencing a lot of pain to make the sweet times sweeter. 

 It's one in the morning and I don't know how long it's going to take to feel okay. I know you will not spend too much time dwelling on it, because I know you too well. I don't mind. You are what you are, and I loved you for it. Truly. 

Stay Beautiful.