Once you told me: 'If we ever broke up, we should sit on a bench somewhere and force ourselves to speak. And we will not go home until we talk to eachother again.' You gave me a pinky promise and I laughed because I couldn't imagine that it would happen. But it did. I guess pinky promises can be broken and depression can kill the tender soul your friend once had. It can make you hate without hate and make you believe your friends don't love you enough. As I look deeper, I can't find any hatred in me. I'm not gonna play the 'I'm a victim game'. Because in this game, both of us are losers. You lost your friend, so did I. The only game I'm gonna play is taking care of the ones that decided to stay and honor the calmness that grew inside me.
Thereyougo