Why am I even writing this letter? Because it's 1:00 in the morning and I'm thinking about how much I miss you, even though I keep reminding myself that you're a lying, selfish son of a bitch who couldn't keep a promise to save his life. I've had a lot of crap come up within the past few weeks that I've needed to tell you about, but every time I think "Chad would know what to do" or "Chad would know what to say," I realize you're gone. Not only are you all the way in Texas, but whatever bond we had was broken the night you promised you'd come back and never did. You not only promised, you swore on Serra's life. Normally, I don't believe swears, but I took into consideration your nephew Mitchell, and figured you wouldn't be so callous to swear on something that you know, first-hand, is fragile.

I was wrong.

I believed a lot of things you told me, Chad. I believed you when you told me I was your best friend. I believed in you when no one else did. I believed you when you said we'd stay friends. But what I couldn't believe is how you treated me when you got off that plane. You acted as if you hated me, as if I was a piece of garbage. Even more unbelievable is the fact that I actually apologized to you for my behavior. I cared so much about you that I was willing to lie to myself and tell you that I was wrong for crying.

I was your friend. I would have done anything in the world for you. I loved you.

But not anymore. You lost a true friend to you own self-centered ways. You didn't have the decency to say to my face what you felt about me -- good, bad, or indifferent. Why? Because you are nothing but a coward. I don't care how many push-ups you do. I don't care how many planes you fly. I don't care how many drill sergeants believe that you, Chad Allen Anderson, are the greatest thing to walk onto an Air Force base. Because in my eyes, you'll always be a yellow coward who couldn't keep his promises.

Good riddance,

Anna