So I wanted to be a god "without effort". Except all the effort I put into you - into giving you the confidence needed for you to finally stand up for yourself and get rid of the bullies in your life, abusive mother included. All the effort of trying to raise you into something more.
I have been "itching for a fight". Or rather, itching to get my friend back - the one that actually encouraged discussion and didn't expect people to censor themselves while making up fake illnesses to excuse behaving like an ass. Itching to not have to conquer the fear of angry, vicious backlash before commenting on something.
And I kept "stabbing you with your mistakes". Or rather, carrying an open, festering wound caused by a broken promise, trying to keep it covered, but having it slowly ooze venom into my life ever since it happened. I did not want an apology or the endless self-flagellation you kept performing. I wanted to understand why you promised me something you knew you couldn't (or didn't want to) deliver.
Go ahead, enjoy your life. If that means stabbing your closest ones in the back and feeling "truly blessed" when 108 fakers wish you a happy birthday (just how many of those would kill or die for you? have you ever asked yourself that?), then so be it. You do you, I do me. And if you think I'm "editing reality", then I probably learned from the best master of that. After all, you had me believe that you cared, that you wouldn't post defamatory bullshit about me again, and that you would live up to what your writing shows.
I fucking miss you, or what you used to be. But I couldn't handle what you have become. And for the defense of my own sanity, I won't try to get back into your company again. Enough is enough.