You are, and probably always be, one of the most important people in my life. I know what I said to you on Sunday night may have hurt you, but it was the truth.
You should have known how you felt about me before you asked me into your bed. Before you and I had sex. Before we even kissed. It hurt to know that you didn’t care about me, that you were willing to risk it all to figure out that you weren’t ready for a relationship and that it didn’t matter anyways, because you just saw me as a friend.
And you shouldn’t have told me the sex was great. That was a really low blow.
And when you told me to get out of the car because I told you how I felt and that we should have never happened…you were so mad at me. You kicked me out of your car and then called me later to say you were having a panic attack and that I “didn’t need to see that.”
We are best friends anymore. We still talk daily but it feels like a lie, holding onto something that doesn’t actually exist anymore. As the days go on and we keep lying to ourselves that we’re fine, I’m starting to realize that I may be okay with just letting you go completely. Especially since it feels like I’m the only one trying to fight and keep this together.
What’s fucked up is,
I still love you.