I prayed for you.
I fasted with you.
I kept all of your secrets.
I did everything that a good friend should do.
It wasn't enough for you, never would be enough for you.
I was too trusting.
I was so stupid.
Naive enough to think that your definition of friendship would be the same as mine.
I thought you listened.
I thought you supported.
I thought you encouraged.
You prayed for me.
You fasted with me.
For the first time in my life, I opened up to someone.
I shared all of my secrets.
I thought you would do everything a good friend would do.
When I needed your support most, you turned on me.
You became someone you claimed you never could be.
Maybe you always were that person.
You hid it well.
You built me up, only to tear me violently down.
I ignored the initial sting of the venom,
thinking that I could overcome it.
You went for the kill.
Your salacious gossip tore my heart to shreds.
You didn't care.
My blood wasn't enough.
You wanted my dignity, so that you could replace yours.
I want you to know that this is the last time that I will ever write or think about you.
Wasting any more of my time would be tragic.
We aren't friends.
Maybe we never were.