You are rotting as we speak

Sometimes I reminisce and smile upon the times we used to have. From swinging on the hammock pretending we were siblings, to whispering secrets and giggling excessively, to kissing on my bed hoping my mom wouldn't walk in, to sneaking on my roof and singing songs on the top of our lungs. But then I remember all the daggers you impelled at me and the warm joyous memories turn to fungus and dirt. The uncontrollable and constant lying, the frequent mood swings, the countless times you would watch me die and laugh. I don't really know why I put up with you for nine long years. I guess in a way I'm glad it's over, although at times I miss your cheerful laugh ringing in my ear. Things have changed so much and I guess for the better.

No, I know for the better.