Hey you,

I've tried to be really cool about this entire thing. You said so yourself when you said that you had met an old flame and "can't pretend that nothing will happen." That should've been our last conversation, and for awhile it was. Then, little by little, you started popping up again. I ignored the random following on Twitter, even though you hadn't tweeted in almost two years, the LinkedIn profile views, and even the occasional Instagram like. Until the e-mails started rolling in.

My birthday started a week-long conversation about everything. The charm, the way you talked to me, throwing the word princess around like you had no idea what it does to my brain. I'd never been more confused. You left, totally disappeared, until one day you just came back.

I'd give my all to not start a conversation, even if days or weeks went by. Every time I would think, that's it, there he goes, your name would pop back up like an alarm going off in your head telling you to check on me.

Don't tell me she's crazy, don't tell me you're miserable, because every time you do, I think, "Good, you should be." That isn't fair to me or to her really. I know you're not stupid. You know all of this.

If you see this, next time that alarm goes off...please, don't even bother. You wanted her. You moved her in quickly, talked to me in secret when things would go sour, then disappeared again when they got better. If you can't be a friend all the time, don't try to be one at all. You left, too far gone for me to even fight about it. This is on you. This is what you wanted. For my sanity, stay gone.