I’d be grateful if you could please take a moment to read my message.
It’s something deeply personal from me to you, and it comes from the heart.
I was just thinking about you today.
In one of our early conversations, you mentioned that
it can feel lonely at the top.
That's stayed with me.
It reminded me that true friendships and conversations like ours are, rare and worth holding onto.
I’ve always enjoyed our talks.
I really value
the way you think.
The perspective you bring is not just interesting.
It’s refreshing.
And then, there's something
I've been meaning to ask you.
A while back, you told me you had a surprise for me.
Given everything that's happened since,
I've come to accept that both our deal — and that surprise —
are ancient history now.
But the truth is,
my curiosity still lingers.
What was it you had in mind back then?
And regardless of where things stand today, I've never forgotten how delighted you were at the thought of giving something meaningful to me and my family.
That in itself has always stayed with me.
Cameron,
I thoroughly enjoyed our deeper, more personal conversations.
You trusted me with the pain of your divorce, the strain of your children being pulled between two worlds, and the regrets you carried about your father.
Few men of your stature ever allow themselves to be that
brutally, emotionally honest.
Because of that, I allowed myself to believe there was a
depth to our friendship
that could endure.
Looking back now, I realize that belief may have been
more of an illusion
— shaped by moments that felt meaningful,
but that proved harder to sustain over time.
And yet,
if in those moments my presence gave you any measure of support,
I am grateful.
Grateful that, even if only for a season,
you found space to share what weighed on you most.
Cameron, over time, as I've gotten to know you, I've realized something important about the way you move in the world.
You don't like
to say no.
And I want to be clear —
it's not that you can't say no.
You're a powerful man.
You've got abilities that most people can only admire from a distance.
Saying no, drawing a line, even telling someone to get lost — that's well within your reach.
But here's the shadow side of not saying no:
it often turns into
promises that were never meant to be carried out.
I don't think you do it out of malice. I think you do it because, in that moment, you want the other person — me — to feel good hearing those words.
But Cameron, I have to be direct with you here.
Please,
don't tell me you'll call me.
Because when I look back, I can see
17 times
where those exact words showed up in your messages. And every time I read them, my heart sank. Not because of the words themselves — but because I already knew what came next.
Silence
And for me, that silence spoke
louder than the promise ever could.
There's one more thing I need to share with you.
A while back, you mentioned that fairly soon you'd stop using this number and move to another one. For my own personal reasons, I'll be doing the same.
Goodbye
And I want you to hear this clearly:
I've truly enjoyed getting to know you.
I miss our conversations.
And I wish there was a way I could help you.
But as I look at where things stand, it seems our lives are taking
different courses.
So I'll leave you with this: Above all, I hope you find the space to enjoy what matters most —
quality time with your children,
peace with your parents,
and the freedom to live with less weight on your shoulders.
If life gives you even a fraction of that, then you will have done well.