Sometimes I wonder if you're honestly happier than I could ever make you. I'm pretty sure I did an amazing job. Shit, you were always priority. It was always you over EVERYTHING, including myself. I didn't mind, I expected that to the death. I thought it was mutual.

False.

I guess someone came along who made you see clearer. Perhaps she was just the catalyst for you to finally set me free, which is something you couldn't accomplish on your own. I'm not quite clear on all of it, but I accept it.

I'm just confused on when the front all started. When you changed your mind and finally... When your ass gave up on me. I would've thought you might have fought a little harder, but you never did, you accepted each and every request I had to pull myself away from you.

I moved out. I asked for a divorce. I decided to transplant my entire life to NYC.

You obliged, without a single fight.

For the record, in the world of love and war, we always want you to fight—with guns fucking blazing. You quietly retreated, waving white flags after 11 years. 11 years. I expected the world from you, and at one point you told me I should no longer hold onto those (expectations). I became an ugly obligation at some point and you weren't having it.

And through it all, here I am… still mad sometimes, but undeservingly loyal to a friendship that should have gone up in smoke when you did.

And there you are, having your cake and eating it too. But its cake right?

That's what you're supposed to do. #coleworld