I’d like to convince myself you’re just infatuated with me. We’ve been friends since three or four years ago, and honestly, i like how things went through. You were like a little brother to me. I watched how you love and how you left every time, while still holding on to me as your friends. And I wanted to keep it that way. Yes, I’ve noticed it. The patterns were not hard to recognise and by the way you keep on trying to reach out to me—one would think you’re too easy and loud to fall in love. Here’s the thing, I have no feelings for you, and there’s no chance I’ll ever use pity as an excuse to give you a try. You never even truly knew me, because I kept my image too pretty for you and for others. You don’t love me—you love the idea of dating me. You liked the way I treated you, how I keep my tone and how neutral I was towards you. You were so used to the way I treated you, you thought it was something special. But I always laid it out, right? The way I treated you, is exactly how I treated my friends—andI feel guilty for making you love me. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you the love you are searching on me. I see you as my younger brother. Please don’t send me flowers on my birthday—it’ll just make things more harder to process. sincerely yours, christina