I was looking back at the essay you wrote about me that you sent to me in the freshman year. It sucks that I bet you don't feel the same about me. Everything sucks. You just ignore me now and you make me feel like shit. I hate that. But I can't even hate you because I keep thinking that you're just like this. You're tired. You just get tired of people. You'll come around. You'll stop being so mean and bitchy. Whatever.
The thing is, you used to be some of the reason I would cut. And then you were the reason I stopped.
Now there's no reason not to.
I tried to go back and find the conversations we had long time ago. When we actually had good feelings toward each other. I couldn't. They had long gone with my old computer. It made me a little sad to realize this because I knew you had the conversations still, and I couldn't ask you for them.
All I have are the poems you wrote me, and the first fight we had. I don't have anything since then.
I hope you're reading these. Just kidding. I hope you're not. Then you'd know how messed up I probably am.
I hope you know that I don't love you anymore. I'm trying as hard as I can to move on. I'm 95% loaded already. I'm trying hard to be done, and you make it easy and hard at the same time, thanks.
I hate how you can be so insensitive. I know you're just fishing for a reaction. I don't want to respond though. I always feel to stupid around you. I hate myself when I'm with you.
No comments:
Post a Comment