Blank Doll will not deign to spit at you.

I will begin this without seeking to hurt, without asking to sting nor wound. I write this not in malice, but in dire need of defending myself against that which should no longer matter yet still does. It is a thing of little consequence, but it is a thing I will have named and spoken.

If ever the hand of my amitie was extended, it was held out with abandon to you. Nothing can marr the memory I still keep, locked and pinned away with regret and the shaking of my head. It was a beautiful time, it was, when you took my hand and we savoured the blooming of our youth together. How we crossed that threshold together I will not forget.

In a way, we needed one another than. You were nothing, as I was but I was the nothing that was vilifed. A stigma lain upon me. You were the nothing that nobody saw. A strange alliance, always a queer thing. How we grew. Our secrets, the language only we spoke to the exclusion of others. I treated you as an equal. If sometimes you thought to slap my hand away, I never held it to my bosom like a cherished weal. Yet I felt it.

You think I locked you away in my little web of whispers, the meticulous world I created where my introversion became ours. Where every step I took diminished your light, every way I moved extended my shadow over your face until nobody saw yours save as the halo that gilded my self. Well, I will tell you now that you did not suffer alone. You pressed me to death with the tyranny of your inferiority, forced me to be contented in a place I could only have been happy because I had only known the mediocrity of my given place.

So now we are changed. I have risen, there can be no other way of describing what I am now. It is a different matter altogether now is it not? All along I had to hide the breadth of my knowledge, the illumination of my pen from you. We can only be what we are. I look at you and god, I despair.

We are so different now. Even the way we speak, the way we act, the places we go and the people we are with. Who was acting in absence of forebearance and maturity when the things were done and said?

And now, my defence. Language is a singular skill which I hold. I could count the number of people my age who equals me in the measure of my skill, one perhaps who exceeds it. You will not dare gainsay it because you know it. How dim your mastery is when placed next to mine. This vitrolic is evidence enough.

What you saw fit to call arrogance angers me. This is because never has it extended to you. I loved you and cherished you as a friend, my pride does not sting those whom I love. Friendships I pick, nurture and cherish in hand. I have no time for hypocrisy, for acquaintances. You named my nature arrogance, I call you inferior.

So now I have said what I have always meant to say. Yes, I am jealous. Yes, I am hurt. I cannot pretend otherwise. I will not fancy this malady gone from my heart because therein was a place only you could claim. Now, there is only a sort of sorrow because I fail to see why we have allowed matters to reach such an end. If I claimed your friendship once more, it would be claimed in vain. Yet, the things we have gone through. They are countless.

Nothing I say will move your heart, nothing I do will make you change your mind. Since you have set yourself so, then let it be as such. We can only be what we are. Understand that when I rise finally to the vantage of my fate, I shall look done and see you. I will offer you a smile and a prayer then.

Time was meant to heal, yet I fear Time drove us quite athwart. In the end, we can only be what we are.

You are free now as I am. It is done.

C'est tout.