Dear C,

I don't hate you. I don't love you. I've moved beyond that years ago.

There is no eloquence I can muster for this, there is no consolidation. There is no need to be consoled. I don't even think of you anymore aside from the rare fleeting moment, and even then it's accompanied by laughter and the words: “What was I thinking when I said I was going to marry that?”

I may not care as you ex, I may not care because of what we had, but I care because I knew the man underneath beforehand. My friend. My brother.

The point of this is: Get better and stop doing stupid stuff now that I'm not around to mother you out of it. You're an adult.

I'm not doing it for you, who was my lover. I'm doing it for him, who was my brother. I hate to see old friends ruin themselves.

Let's see him try and do some good for a change.

Sincerely.

S.H.