Dear I-don't-want-to-like-you-anymore,

Sometimes I wonder why I obsess over you.Is it really worth it? Are you really that worth it?

I'm not someone who brags about myself, but I know one thing for sure. I've been a good friend. A damn good one. There were times I just wanted to give up on you. But I never bloody did. I was there for you more than you were ever there for me, without holding onto to any expectations or hoping that someday you'd look out for me in the same way as I did. It was enough for me to know that you were a part of my life and would forever continue to be. Yet I had to watch you slip away, like all that we ever built was but an illusion.

But may be this is what I deserve for caring more than I should have. May be this is just what I deserve for caring about the sort of people who cant love or care about you back. But should I really be crying over you? After all, losing out on someone who hardly cares is not a loss at all. The truth is, you are the one who is losing out on someone. May be you assumed I would always be there because I never let you realise what it is like when someone who means a lot disappears at random intervals from your life. Or the feeling of waking up and wondering if may be today that someone will finally come back.

I know how peep into you soul and wonder why the emptiness, the hollow happiness, keep resurfacing every now and then. May be if you learned to value the people who really look out for you, you wouldn't have to drown out the bereft silences with the voices of people who mean nothing at all. So I have finally decided that the only way to make you value my presence is by letting you taste what my absence feels like.

You know as hard as it is for me to step out right now, I know I'll find my happiness someday. But you will come back home after every fantastic party and in the lonely silence of your home you'll wonder, why the feeling of satisfaction does linger. The empty hole will speak again. It will yearn to be comforted by the company of someone who cares. But dear friend I wont be there. This time I really wont be there.