Short Story - To Whom it won't concern

To Whom it won't concern - 500 word Short Story
'He don't talk to me no more. At least not like he used to. My memory seems to have faded from his mind like the joy of Christmas fades from the mind of a child once he has opened all his presents.
Didn't even say hello when he arrived through the door. Three months gone away and it's like I no longer exist. Mind you I'm kidding myself if I say that we were friendly before he left. In fact for some years now it's like he's been avoiding me. And even when he did talk occasionally it would always be brief and condescending as if he were talking to a child or something. Think he must have forgotten that I'm the same age as he is. And to think that he used to call me his brother. I remember those times. Years ago and as if from a different world but I still remember. I have to. It's the memory of our beautiful friendship which is the only thing that stops my poor heart bursting whenever he gives me the cold shoulder.

Used to talk for hours as young lads. Walks through the wicked forest where we would skip ahead of the oldies and run along creating and imagining our own world. Sunday afternoons when we would sit together on the warm old couch and treat ourselves to an afternoon of the footie. You never watched a game without me. When ever you cried I remember that I was the only one you could talk to about your problems. Our laughter which was surely a statement for all the pleasure that existed in the world. Felt so nice to have someone who cared about me like that. It's not as if I got to see the world like you did. No education, no other friends, you were all I had. But if I'm honest you were all I wanted. It was like no-one else but you understood me. No one else ever spoke to me. But you were different. And now your just like them. I've got no-one to talk to anymore. I feel old and worn out. Sit in your bedroom mostly when your away looking at old photographs of us together and trying to picture where it all went wrong. My loneliness is made worse by the fact that I know what it was once like to be loved.
Last week I sat on your bed waiting for you to arrive back from a night out on the town. I just wanted to talk. To share a laugh like we had done so effortlessly in the past. You came back late waking me from a deep sleep but still I was so pleased to see you standing there looking at my face. There was some girl beside you. You said something to her in a voice I no longer understand and then you just threw me onto the floor. My old friend treating me as if I was just a toy. As if I was just some old teddy bear.