I love her, but I can’t have you. And I’m going to be okay with that. I’m going to have to learn how to be. I find myself picturing me facing you, smiling, with these tears rolling down my face, saying “I’ll be okay.” There’s part of me that’s glistening with joy for you, knowing that somebody else is making you happy. But another part is cracking beneath the surface, wishing I didn’t put pedestals into the frame. Because ultimately, my inferiority complex kills my chances of ever appealing to the friends I make in more than a platonic way. I hope for the best with you, best friend. I’m grateful to have you as my best friend. I hope that your partner grows alongside you, in ways I cannot.