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Let me be irrational for maybe, five minutes.

Where is the effort? Please tell me where the hell it is – because you know, I thought friendship went both ways. But then again, I guess that’s my mistake: thinking that we’re friends when maybe, just maybe, we’re not. I can’t even count off my fingers how much effort I make into being friends with you, yet you seem to brush it off like it’s irrelevant, like it doesn’t really matter to you.

Maybe it doesn’t matter to you. Maybe it never really mattered to you. Maybe it was wrong of me to think that it could matter to you almost as much as it mattered to me. I’m not going to start all this shit on me not mattering to you, because honestly, I could barely give a fuck about that. What I give a fuck about is how I’m slaving my ass off attempting to be there for you and to be someone you could rely on, when in the end I’m not even necessary to you.

So you know what? Fuck you. Fuck you and your lack of effort, because it takes effort to keep friends. And if you don’t want to keep me around, here I am taking the bloody hint.

I was supposed to password-protect this, but you know what? I want you to see it. I don’t know if you’ll read it, but I don’t care. At least it’s out there. So why don’t you take a hint – if you want to stay friends with me, work on it. Because really, it’s your loss. I can live without you, the same way it seems like you can live without me.