Marco,

Everyone told me to hate you and I gave it an honest run. Turns out I'm bad at it.

You lied. Constantly. You made me small because small was easier to keep. I've said all of this out loud to a therapist who nods a great deal.

And also. I have never laughed harder than I laughed with you, and when the panic came at 3am you were the only person alive who knew not to talk, just to lay a flat hand on my back and wait it out next to me. Both of those are true at the exact same time, and I've finally quit trying to make them cancel out.

I loved you. I am going to carry some bent, broken-shaped version of it around for the rest of my life, and after years of being ashamed of that, I've decided it can simply be true.

This is the only place I'll ever say it, locked up where it can't do any more damage. It doesn't need my permission. It was never going to ask for yours.