Blue

Okay, so it's six months later, and I have a new boyfriend.

Oh, and everyone thinks I'm a huge fucking bitch for it. That's what your (former, I suppose) best friend called me today. Classy, huh? I mean, for the last six months none of them would look at me because they felt guilty, but now that I'm no longer single, they feel like they can despise me. Which is almost, almost funny, because you were always that guy who was friends with all of his exes, and tried to make me give mine the benefit of the doubt.

I mean, you were reckless and you did stupid stuff and you were irresponsible (and indirect cause of the breakup-that-wasn't, because it caused the fighting) but you always were remarkably decent in that way.



And I'm seriously just so sick and tired of all of this. Your mom started working at Genovese after you died, just to give herself something to do all day, and now every time I want to buy a freaking pack of gum she gives me this wounded, agonized look, as if I had broken her heart all over again. And that's just not fair.

Which is why I'm trying really hard not to resent you. Because I realize that's not fair, either.

So I guess this is me, saying that I don't hate you. I wish I could. But if I'd broken up with you, I probably would've been just as good friends with you as you were with every single one of your other exes. I'm okay now, even though your friends sometimes make me cry. I'll be okay.

So I guess this is me, forgiving you for dying.