one week since you looked at me - well, no.

...twelve years since you graduated, ten years since you celebrated your twentieth, eight years since I felt the oddness, seven years since we crumbled. I still wonder. Am I too weak to accept the way of all things and thus the way of our friendship? Somebody told me to get in touch with you again, tell you I miss you. But, surprise, I felt my stomach churn at this. I once thought that you were the one person in the world to get me. The one person I would be friends with until eternity. But, hey, I was wrong, and ever since that moment, week, year, period, never-ending catastrophe (?) I've lost the capability to trust and believe. I still trust, and I still believe, but it takes years, and I don't give as easily. I only trust one person enough to really call her my one and only best friend, and our friendship has grown over more than a decade. You left - or did I? - and I pieced together my fragments. Weird thing, I don't want you back in my life. I'd have to try hard and harder every time I'd share something with you. I don't want to trust you again. I'd only like to see you to ask you why and to tell you to get lost. Oh, but that's the old revenge gene. We should've long got over it, but we haven't. I haven't.

So, enjoy your thirtieth tomorrow, it's not as bad as they make you believe. And enjoy your life. You may find yourself in my book one day. I may find that you're still okay after all, like I did with some of the old classmates, but I might not. Maybe I should try.