John Lacey

This is the letter I didn’t wish to write, but also a letter I’ve started penning on so many occasions. Just to try and make sense of it. To try and understand why I can’t get you out of my thoughts, out of my system. Even after it is painfully apparent that I am well and truly out of yours. That perhaps I actually never formed more than a passing thought in the reaches of your mind. All these things that I don’t want to see, because they hurt me. Because they are so painful. Because I still don’t understand. I don’t understand how you could have so little regard for me. I don’t understand why you pretend to want to be my friend when it seems you really couldn’t be bothered hearing from me. It took me a really long time to try and resolve ‘this.’ And the fact that I am even here now typing is an indication that I have been unable to. Why do you taunt me so? If you don’t care about me, just say so. This pretense is too much. It requires more energy than I possess. And there was a time when I really thought you were my friend, that you wanted to be. You weren’t in love with me, but it seemed you wanted to be my friend. And every time I would think of you, or hear from you, or see you, I would feel the sting of your rejection. But I kept it to myself as much as I could, because I figured there was something more important at stake; friendship.