You broke the word that bound us together for months — months that felt like a wonderful infinity. I wish I could say I broke it and you didn’t. That way, things wouldn’t feel unbearably heavy. But my heart heard you, and there’s no way of rebuilding what I thought you would hold special no matter what.
Maybe I said the right things at the wrong time. Or maybe I said the wrong things at the right time. Maybe my brutal honesty pushed you to put a stain on what defined us and the world we shared. But here’s what you didn’t know that night, and what I hope you’ll understand someday: I was so careful even as I was putting my walls down. I was so careful even as my emotions were running high. I was so careful because you meant so much to me even when you thought I was careless.
I have nothing but endless tears for that split-second moment you questioned the very idea that made me see the two of us, together and apart, in such a bright light and in such amazement. I’ve always thought you were that special friend who would think I’m more than enough even when I’m at my most vulnerable. I guess I was wrong, and I guess it’s time again to smile, laugh, walk, and talk like everything’s okay and like you didn’t break me.