I won't put up a facade like women usually do. I won't pretend I'm better off without you.

You left me with no warning. No signs. My messages went undelivered, and I should have wished it ended there.

It should have never had to be a choice. You could have loved her, and you could of continued to love me. And whether or not you chose to stop loving her when she made it a choice, that was for you to decide. As was choosing her and forgetting about me like the past 10 years had just dissapeared.

She had no heart, only despiteful jealousy. As if her friends have never supported her like I was only trying to support you. I cried out to you three days after you missed my birthday for the first time in a decade. "You're supposed to be a best friend, where are you?" As tears poured down my face.

and all I could think about was how unfair this was. I wished you a spiteful happy birthday, but a happy birthday nonetheless. As she blocked me on that page too.

You came back to lean on me when it all went bad again. I took you back in because you were my person and I knew I was yours. And before I could blink, you were gone again.

I asked myself, how many times? How many times are you going to come back to me like this? You said you weren't looking for forgiveness, but we both knew you were. While I thought the answer was plenty, it only added up to two.

J. Cole. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool my twice, and I didn't. I didn't blame you. I graduated college a few weeks after I ignored your second message. Your second forgiveness speech. Covid had our bodies tied up, so I knew my perfect graduation would fall short of magnificent. Covid wasn't the reason you weren't sitting in the bleachers that day. I fooled myself thinking that I could send you the link, and you would watch me as I completed the hardest and longest task of my life yet. So the fool hit send just to find it pending.

I stopped reaching out. I stopped watching as my messages were deleted, as my accounts were blocked, as my best friend became a stranger.

Eight months until I graduate with a Master's degree you never even knew I was working on... But there's only two until the second birthday you miss.. and only eight days after that that I'll catch a tan for you as I continue to wish you a happy birthday too.