I’ve rehearsed what I’ll say to you if you ask why we can’t be friends. We can’t be friends because I love you. Because I’ve always loved you. From the moment I saw you, before we even greeted each other, I loved you. I was always so cynical of love at first sight, and then there you were, with your long ponytail and low skinny jeans and awkward glances. There you were with your ‘fuck off’ attitude and frothy beer. There you were with your best friend and there I was with mine. And after that, we were best friends too. And I should have known to leave you emotionally at that point, before I even entered you, because you had let me know you really liked her. I was relentless. Foolish. To think I could have you, even as a friend. Then you began treating me bad, and I stuck around. Then you said sorry, and we wrestled on The Tea Club lounge and I thought we were going to kiss but we didn’t. We never did. You always spoke about ‘fucking’ people, but you’d never ‘made love’ and you didn’t believe in it. I’ll tell you something, you do believe in it. You got scared, because you knew deep down that if we had sex, it wouldn’t be just a fuck. We would wake up in the morning and everything would be different. You were scared to love anyone, let alone someone who loved you back ten times as hard, and I think that’s why you subconsciously refused yourself the vulnerability of loving someone. Or even liking them. Well I continued loving you, and you continued disappointing me. How could someone who knows all of your bad points continue to love you? Well I did. I want to let you know that you will never find anyone that loves you as much as I do, because no one would be stupid enough to let themselves love someone so poisonousness. You’re dangerous. A ticking time bomb. 

I told you never to return. 

I hope you know I love you though.