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"Your cowardice is not worth a postage stamp." |
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Submitted by Ms. Interpreted
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I should just suck it in and declare that you're gone. Clearly you're not--you'll go to my art shows and you'll keep eating lunch with me (and the six or seven others with their zombie-oriented conversations), but if you look at how it used to be, yes, you are. There was a time when you devoted a slender fraction of your life to friendship, and that fraction has become a hair's breadth; all that remains is some half-assed obligation that you think will distract me from your absence.
What's behind your mass of flippy curls and thick skull? I love you, as unconditionally as my own blood, and you refuse to see that anything that affects you, real or imagined, affects me too.
I continue to value our friendship despite your continued behaviors which let me down, over and over and over. You're brilliant, and I want to be there when you're at your best, but your worst is wasting my time. I'm not going to write you anymore. Your cowardice is not worth a postage stamp.
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