A few nights back, I heard of your good fortune in meeting someone new and being so happy with them, stating that breaking up with me was the best thing you could have done.

I'm happy for you. I'm truly happy for you. This isn't some sort of I-want-you-back-so-I'm-going-to-make-you-feel-guilty letter. I don't want you back, save for I would like to know that if we were to meet sometime in the future, I would like to be able to say "Hello Becky", and you could say "Hello Bryan", and we could walk on, back to our homes, back to our separate lives, back to not being around each other once more.

But the time for that has passed. You took it upon yourself to see that what I did was only to hurt you, or rather, that's what I'm assuming because you neglect to inform me to the contrary.

Jesus, Becky, does the world revolve around you? I loved you, and in some sort of twisted, sick, self-mangling way, I think I still do. But after we broke up, I was lonely. You knew it. I told you that several times. How many times can I tell you that it wasn't about you? Sex isn't all that you think it is. Look where it got us.

I'm done with this ... I am so done with this. I'm tired of wondering, tired of feeling guilty when I shouldn't, tired of letting myself be the bad guy. I hope you have a great life, but don't expect to hear from me again, as it's not worth the effort anymore.

I want to say something incredibly mean. I want to tell you off. I want to tell you that I hate you. I want to tell you that if I ever see you again, I'll pretend as if your body wasn't even there. But I can't do that. Partially because I won't let myself, and partially because it would all be fake.

Funny how the last word you said to me was "Good..." before you hung up the phone, yet on my end, up until now, it was anything but.

Funny how things change.

Bryan