Someone told me months before that your inconsiderate towards her feelings. Now I know. And you defend yourself saying that you don’t mean it. I know. And now, there’s nothing I can really say because I’ve figured it out. Not you, I’ve figured me out. Best friend. Always that and nothing more. That’s what I will always be. Her or her or her. Never me. Build my hopes up to have them knocked down, torn down, stepped on, and hurt by. It’s finally starting to process thanks to your help. It’s not you, or her, or her, or her. It’s me. And it will always be me. Because no one ever sees the shine I have or the smile I bring or the time I spend, listening and comforting. I’m the best friend. Someday, someone will see I’m more than just that. But I promise you it won’t be you. Go to her and her and her. They’ll want you. Me? I might just be finally through with you. Possibly, hopefully, never. But this time, it’s not a pity party. It’s a realization of the truth. My truth. The best friend. Maybe someday, I’ll be lucky. But for now, in your eyes, I’ve managed to become the best friend. Her and her and her? They’re more for you than I’ll ever be.