Well, he was someone that I really, really love to hate. An excuse I’ve made years ago to channel all my resentments towards my pathetic quixotic feelings. Everything about him, the stuff that he did, the crowds that he hung out with, even the food that he eats made me angry. Come to think about it after years of concealed hatred, I’m actually angry with myself rather than him. He was only a tool, a punching-bag-like tool created by my own horrific decadence. Ah, it has become a cancer. A cancer that I thought was in its terminal stages. I was in pain.

Then I let it out. I let it all out in the presence of his conscious state of being. A cleansing process of freeing the words that has become rotten at the back of my head. And now I felt lighter, healthier.

After all this time, he was just being a decent friend.