In the case that you ever question my reasons for increasing the distance between us, I've decided to lay it all on the table, here and now. Here goes: For years, I admired you, for your wit and undeniably humerous charm. You've never been a looker, or had any natural grace, but I was drawn to you for your intelligence and high confidence. And from that seemably insignificant day in sixth grade when we had our first debate on, I knew I was honored to be close to you. You made me feel comfortable, and albeit special. I found myself getting more and more fond of our arguments, because it meant you were talking to me. For four years, I have sought every known kind of acceptance from you. And unlike my past friends, I convinced myself that because you were awkward and at the the time undesirable, you wouldn't be capable of hurting me. I deceived myself, and thought and felt that you accepted me as much as I accepted you. Those feelings led me to let my guard down, and that was my fault. But then there is you. Feeding on my disillusions, and getting every ounce of satisfaction out of me that I was willing to give to a person I thought was worthy. For four years, I wasted my time plucking petals mercilessly from helpless daisies. I was driven to the very edge of my sanity and back, just trying to keep my perfect image of you intact, all the while walking on eggshells that were once my trusting heart. After four wasted years, I've grown enough to see now, that you strung me along, giving me just enough of a taste of that acception to keep me alive, to suffer another day. You made me feel like I belonged just enough to render me willing to put up with your crap for another day. You were aware that I cared about you, and you used me. Rose-colored glasses no longer impeding my view, I'm stronger now. This heart has been hardened to the bitter reality of the world now. After four years, I bear no remorse. I, of current, see you for what you are - a pompous jackass - and once the world, too, opens its eyes, so will they. Four years, and it's over.