I hate liars.
One day, I'll hate myself.
You lied.
You said we could be friends. We aren't friends. I don't even know you anymore. But then, I guess I never did.
I kept telling you how you found it so easy to drop people, and one day you'd do the same to me. And you kept protesting that it wouldn't happen. Surprise surprise, it did.
It hurt me because I believed you, and believed in you. I believed we could be friends. I answered your calls when you needed me. I was there when you had no one else to turn to. I didn't do it because I expected something in return, but it's a bit odd that you've just upped and left.
In the end, I only wished you the best. I still do, in fact. But for some reason, your whole attitude has changed. This air of incredible superciliousness that you bandy about -- I really don't get that. I'm happy that you're happy, but there's no need to run other people's lives down. If there's one word I'd like to point out to you, it's under E in the dictionary. Empathy.
What's doubly strange is that you're the one who taught me how to be more sensitive. I can't seem to reconcile this behaviour with the person I once knew. I don't know if it's just with me -- which it well could be -- but from the way you talk about other people whom we knew, and knew closely at that, it seems like you just don't care about anything outside your little world.It's a bit sad, in the end. You have all these 'friends' who are now super-close to you, whom you couldn't stop bitching about at one time. I guess you do the same to me/us when you're with them. I see paeans everywhere to this one or that, and I half-smile, remembering how much you hated that person at one point.
I would have liked to tell you to get with it, and prick your bubble of self-contentment. But in my present state, any sermonising on my part smacks of incongruity.
Karma, on the other hand, is not encumbered by such mores.
