Fake

I hope you know I was never rolling anything ulterior. I was confused when I reached out, sure, but look, even that was a long time ago now. We spent years building a new friendship as new people, striking sparks and setting fires with a platonic chemistry as the people we’ve become. Right? That’s what I thought, anyway. But it always felt weird, like you didn’t or couldn’t quite trust me, but we couldn’t talk about it either, and anytime we needed to, you went dark. I thought, whatever, that’s Portland. Let’s just put in the work, because trust isn’t a thing you say but the momentum of what you’ve done, and I thought trust is what we were building. Friendship takes trust. Community takes trust. But then it got weird again, and maybe you know why, but of course you won’t reach out to fix it. That’s on me, like it always is, but bud? I’m tired. I’m done. That’s not trust. That’s that Portland facsimile. I might be a witch but I don’t fuck with illusions. So, blessed be, to you and yours. Hit me up when you’re ready to face the end of the Anthropocene as a real team.