How dare you.

Who said you could leave me behind? Who let you walk away from everything we've been through?

Who gave you the right to choose him over me?

No one.

No one did.

No one needed to.

You jumped from the boyfriend you neglected to his friend, the one who had inappropriately openly pined after you for two long years.

You left him crying over videochat. You told him you were going to throw away everything he ever bought for you, anything he ever made you, all the things and the memories and the time and the effort and the knowledge of how much he loved you.

And I let you. I told myself that as long as you were happy, I would be happy. I would support you, best friend. I would grimace until it turned into a smile, I would wave hi to the new guy, squash the queasy disgust that bubbled up every time I saw his smug, self-assured sneer. I would watch you walk away from the plans we had been rescheduling week after week after week after week, because he showed up and pulled you away from me. But you were happy. And if that's what it took for you to be happy, then so be it.

I would be there for you. Because that's what we do.

That's what we do for each other.

No. Apparently, that's what we did for each other.

Three weeks had gone by. I hadn't seen you, hadn't heard from you, hadn't received your reply to any of the messages or texts I left you.

I figured you were busy. It happens. It happened often. We always got through it.

I missed you, I needed you, to be there for me. But you were happy.

Happier without me, apparently.

Do you know how I found out we weren't friends anymore?


Unlike you, unlike you and your forgetfulness and your abandonment, I remembered that short vacation you were planning on taking. I wanted to wish you a good trip, a safe flight, an early happy birthday in case I would be out of the country before I came back.

But I couldn't.

I couldn't message you.

I shouldn't have been surprised, should I? You had been so unavailable, so unreachable. And now? Un-friendable.

You dumped your best friend. Over Facebook.

For what?

Me asking when you could extract yourself from your new boyfriend's face long enough to call me back?

Me catching up with your mom instead of you, because I happened to run into her at the coffee shop that was our hangout?

You wanting to cut and donate and highlight your hair without me, something we'd been planning on doing together for the last two years?

You being tired of having to be a decent friend instead of whatever you turned into?

How dare you.

You disgust me.

Our history might mean nothing to you, but it means something to me.

You know what they say, don't you?

We study history so we know the mistakes we can't afford to repeat.

I'm still going to be a good, decent human being, a devoted, loyal friend.

Just not to you.

We're done.