Open Letter to Coqui

This is probably a bad idea. My friends would certainly disagree with my writing this, and they're pretty smart.
But even so, I've got some things I've left unsaid.

But first, this isn't an apology. I believe in what I did; if I had waited to hear you out (as I'm going to go into
about how I didn't), I would have reached the same conclusion that I did and I would have publicly made the post
calling you and Krimbo out. I believe you really don't care about the values you claim to believe in; your
actions make such a thing clear. It was inevitable we would come to this irreconcilable stage.

But I thought, despite all that, that you and the people who believe in me deserve the truth. It may
seem tangential to the point to them, but I can't take being treated like a really good guy for it
when I see that virtue as being built on something much darker.

Because it comes down to that lack of waiting. I lied about waiting to hear you out, but never getting a response.
In truth, I turned completely against you in a matter of minutes. I wasn't just impatient and angry. I wasn't even
angry. I was /excited/. I had eagerly awaited the chance for years, and you had finally given it to me.

A chance to make you hurt like I felt I had been hurt, both in light of this incident and the four years that we've
known each other. Hurt for all the objections I stowed against the south side, its management and your direction as
a streamer, that I bottled up and kept to myself to keep the peace. The objections aren't important, they were a bunch of
tiny feelings and disagreements that I never once voiced, allowed to grow ugly by my stowing them away.
What matters to me is that I wanted to hurt you. And that when I did, I enjoyed it.

I feel like I should be scared of myself, or something. Joy out of hurting others? What's wrong with me?
That goes against what I believe in, with all this love for humanity and camaraderie, doesn't it? Maybe.
But honestly, I'm feeling calm now that I understand myself in this way. That the violence I did to your feelings
and your reputation is real, and that it hurt me in turn because I denied it was real.

You deserved a friend who would hear you out and listen to your concerns before turning against you, if at all.
But I don't think we were really friends, in spite of what I wanted to believe. How could we be? I was afraid
to get near the truth with you; all I had was your kindness that I didn't know what to do with. I convinced
myself that it was something like sibling love, and it was easy to believe because I'm not really that
close to my own siblings, either.

You deserved a friend to honor that relationship and all you had done for me, but you had me, instead.

That's all I've got to say. I wanted my last message to be the final nail,
but I just couldn't let a lie stand, in the end.