I'm not sorry about what happened. Okay, the better way to say this is that I'm not sorry for what I did because that was right for the company. I didn't like hurting you though. I am sorry for that. I only did what was best.
Facebook was based in California and where were you? New York? Yeah, I thought so. Here's where you'll look at me with stupid, sad eyes but I'm stating a fact. You weren't there when everything was going faster than anyone of us could have imagined. You spent fourteen hour days riding subways to get meetings? Honestly, who needed their money? The place to establish the company further was always here. You didn't understand that, couldn't wrap your linear model mind to the idea. The business wasn't ever what you normally studied about in school. No, we were creating something new all by ourselves and I asked you to be a part of it because I wanted to go into business with my best friend. I knew you would back me up. I didn't want anyone else for the job and I still don't. You just had to make the wrong choices: New York instead of California, her over me, your father's expectations over following your own.
You didn't leave me with a choice. I kept asking you to be where I was, where the company was. Nothing turned out how I wanted them to be. I know you insisted on ads for the site but they would have undermined what I was trying to accomplish. I couldn't have that.
That rainy night in the hallway, when you finally came out, why did it seem like it was the beginning of the end for us? You couldn't see where I was coming from. My words fell onto death ears and never have I wanted to grab you by your wet clothes more.
I said, "I'm afraid if you don't come out here you're going to be left behind."
You heard, 'You're getting left behind.'
I admit: "I want, no, I need you out here. Please don't tell him I said that."
You ignored that confession as if the sentence meant nothing, like that wasn't hard to say aloud.
I don't do feelings. I thought you knew that so when I said, 'I need you,' I meant them. I don't know how I could have been clearer.
You were right. I was jealous over the Phoenix. I thought I deserved to be in a Final Club too and no one bothered to punch me. I guess it didn't matter that I was smarter than some of the idiots that actually get in, being a computer genius doesn't always get you what you want, but I wasn't counting on them taking you away from me. We've always been together. I missed you and I had the right to be mad too since you're the one who decided to freeze the accounts without telling the rest of us, jeopardizing all those hours of coding and effort I put in. I thought, 'fine. If that's where he would rather be, then I'm going to make it easier for him.'
I went through with the share dilutions and somehow, it still hurt like hell when you stormed in front of me while I was wired in and destroyed my laptop, spewing accusations left and right. No, I'm not only one to blame. Don't make me out to be the bad guy.
So you want me to apologize? I don't think I can give you that, but I do regret how I went about it.
You were infuriating at times and a nag at worse, but I will always still want you. It's your impossibly gelled hair and your kind brown eyes that make me pause when I'm in the middle of a writing a line of code or the way that you say Mark all fond and exasperated like you can't help the tone or grin that's stretched across your face. You're the guy that wants to help and who is always there…until you weren't.
Listen, I'm not saying to forget our past, but I believe we should move forward.
Wardo, this time I'm writing back and I'm not letting go if you aren't too.
His fingers cease their movement from the keyboard. He looks at the address one last time while his mouse hovers over the send option. He clicks.