Everything Has Already Been Said

You shot yourself in the head last night. And here I thought we would eventually meet again, years from now, and I would be a successful businesswoman while your life was as messy and ugly as it was in high school. I would gloat and tout my success over your head, and then I could let my grudge go. But you beat me, Eric. You got the last word.

You win.

And I'm sorry. You and I had one fucked-up relationship, but I shouldn't have blamed you for never loving me back. We both wronged each other, and I should have owned up to my self-delusions. I suppose the real reason why I couldn't bring myself to forgive you is because you have affected me so much in so many different ways while I barely made a ripple in your short, young life. Wasn't I important to you when you thought you had no one else? Didn't you like our long conversations on the phone? Did our friendship mean nothing? Why weren't you sorry?

And now I'll never know. But it's okay, right?