This pains me only because it confirms everything I’ve ever let float through my reasoning on why I don’t care to keep anyone close. The only person I’ve ever considered my best friend. I know we are drastically different. But the nights we spent in your old mustang with def leppard loud as sirens and a box of cigarettes meant more to me than anything. The broken hearts sprung spontaneous ice-cream sprees and me being the only one you could ever run to, I only asked the same of you, but hardly took you up on that. I came out to you as soon as I stepped out of denial. You never thought of me any different. Just a girl. We both were. Our secrets went to the grave. You knew my inner workings. A few months pass and all you can do is sit back and act like you don’t know me. Because I was always different. Because I’m gay. I shouldn’t apologize that I don’t fit into your confined lifestyle. Or maybe never did. But you didn’t act like you cared until now. I apologize for caring so much. For as long as I did. For years and years. You never deserved it. But I won’t apologize for being me. Ever.