I still think about you.
Unfortunately, the only image I have of you still in my head. You're hurt. You're hurt and it's my fault. You were a genuinely good person. It wasn't that you had hope. It was that you brought hope. You were solace made flesh. A person could take but a second to listen to you talk, and they could walk away feeling a little better.
I'm sorry. I really am.
It was obviously for the best. You were the embodiment of happiness and I, well we both know what I am.