I don't know why I'm giving you another chance. I don't even know whether I really am. You have failed. This time, it wasn't me. This time, it was you.
I know I usually take responsibility, even if the fault was not all mine. But this time I know that if I do that, it will become a vicious spiral: everything of me will be compromised away to please you, to keep us together, until all that remains is...what? Nothing worth keeping.
It's true that I'm not fun anymore. But there's a reason for that, and you know what the reason is. I trusted you with the reason. And I wanted your support. I needed help. And that support, that help, never came, at least not from you.
I understand that you were afraid, and confused, and that I was terrifying, a monster of tears, an empty bag of pain in the shape of your friend. I understand that you panicked. But when that time had passed - when the crisis was over, and I was willing to forgive you your fear and your failure if only you would make amends - you continued to let me down.
I know you've got nothing lighthearted left to say, that you don't enjoy being the only one chattering, and that you abhor prolonged sitting in silence. But I do want to talk - about deeper matters, personal issues, serious topics. I need to let someone - someone real, someone who can respond with a human voice from a human face - know how I'm feeling, what I'm thinking. I want to know how you are feeling, too, what you are thinking. I would be there for you if you needed someone, as I had thought you would be there for me.
But if your enjoyment is more important than my crisis, if whether you're having fun is more important than whether I need support, then you're not the friend I thought you were. You're not the person I thought you were. You're not a person I care to know at all. If all that is true, I'm ashamed. Ashamed to have given so much of myself to you, so much of my trust, so much of my love.
So I won't be trying to make it work your way. I won't be learning chess from you, exchanging bits of irrelevant information, avoiding any mention of matters of the heart. I won't cling to your companionship if I can't have your friendship. If that's what it takes, I'll just say goodbye. It was fun while it lasted, I'm sorry it wasn't anything more than that.
But if you're ashamed too, if you're willing to forget your 'fun,' and acknowledge that you've been a bad friend to me of late, and finally, finally provide the emotional support I have been asking, then I'm just idiot enough to give you another chance. If you realize that you care, that I do matter to you, really, and am more than just an ear that doesn't mind the sound of your voice, then I'm just idiot enough to be yours.
But you don't care. I've seen you laughing, joking, chatting with your nerd friends about your plans for having a great little nerd party at your house - when was the last time we saw each other outside school? I've seen you laughing, joking, chatting with your card-playing buddies as I sat, silently, sadly, looking on from across the room. I've seen you laughing, joking, chatting with Adam as I wept silently just a few seats away.
Whatever happened to Evermore?