Don't call me a cheat, because we were never even united. Running away on my part was bound to happen. How could you not see? The illusion of "it could happen," the facade of "we're just not ready to commit yet" is a thing of our past. It's quite over.
My mind and energy transfer, because he's more worthy. He makes me smile. He actually wants to see me for me, while you see me for selfish and florescent adolescent reasons. And hey, he and I are similar to you and I. "We're not together" is what we say. So did we.
But the difference is, we're working on it. The difference is, even if it doesn't work, we're friends, we're brothers in fact. The difference is, he makes me happy and doesn't make me hate myself. And these differences make it worth working on.
It's taken me so long to finally accept that I have to walk away for my own good. It's taken me years to accept that you are nothing but trouble and I was nothing but a hopeless fool to believe that you had ever changed, or ever wanted more. Our last encounter left me full of disgust, full of doubt, full of every ounce of emotion telling me "this can't ever happen again." So it won't. Because this time, I feel a firm firm pounding of the back cover of a book slamming the table; I'm done now.
