An Unsent Letter

Because sharing my feelings with the internet instead of you has always been and will continue to be the default.

I can't be friends with you.

Not because I don't like you, no. It's because of the exact opposite. I like you. A lot. Too much, actually, and it hurts because I know you don't like me at all. At some point, I don't doubt that you did. We were friends. But then she came into the picture and if she doesn't already see it herself, she will. And, in time, you will too... 

She's starting to love you the same way I had for so long.

And now, I can feel you slowly slipping away from me and into her. Even I can't pretend I don't see it (and trust me, I've tried not to). From seeing you two laugh in the rain to seeing her pretend that she isn't gushing over an hour-long text conversation I'm there for. I like to think we could've been like that as well, you know? But then she... 

She came into the picture and now you're gone.

I should've seen it coming at some point. 

No. I did. And yet, I still somehow managed to convince myself otherwise as means to stop myself from feeling the inevitable pain i knew acceptance would cause.

I convinced myself otherwise as means to stop myself from breaking down every time I'd be able to recall how you'd always choose her over me and how I'll be there to see you do all that and more. You know - to catch her eye before you catch mine even when I'm right next to her and I think - most importantly, to catch her fall when she tells you that she's falling for you while I attempt to stand strong - or maybe even at all if i'm lucky, pretending as if I hadn't already fallen for you months ago.