I have always felt that I was perceived as little more than my appearance – that I was nothing but an object.
You were different. You were my friend and that was something I valued. While I always felt that our friendship ran deeper than just that, for once I felt that a member of the opposite sex valued me more than the way I looked.
You promised me your friendship going into this but the most you say to me is ‘when are we going to fuck’ and even then it’s during the wee hours of the morning. I shouldn’t (and now realize that I can’t) judge you today based on who I knew in high school.
(I’ve missed many things in your life during the last two years and that is no one’s fault but my own.)
Certainly we all change… and you certainly have.
I don’t know you anymore.
I won’t judge the boy I knew when we were seventeen. For myself I have to believe that at one point I mattered in some way to you – that you cared about my thoughts and ideas just as much as you cared about how I looked. He was the person that I trusted with so much when I trust so few. I have to believe that the person I once knew would never make me feel the way that I do now.
I’m sorry to say this in a letter, but it is, nevertheless, an explanation (and perhaps more than you deserve from me).
I’m not disposable. I hope you never make another woman feel like she is.
I think I’ll always miss you.
I love you.