Well, this is going to be slightly-well slightly isn't exa-aw fuck it, this shit is gonna be mad long. But if you have the time to sit down and read for a minute, please by all means do so. I would like in my own world to know that someone is mildly interested in me and concerned with my actual being. Other than it always being me caring for
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It's not a question if you ever see Adam, Jasmine, or Ziemba anymore, because one way or another you have hung out with them or spent time with them over the past year, which I frankly couldn't give two shits about if you hung out with them or not. And yeah, you, personally don't usually call anyone to just see "what's up?" fine, that's understandable, but being so that we're friends wouldn't it entail, just a little bit, even a minor question of "Gee I wonder how he's doing? I haven't really talked to him in a year. We kinda used to hang out every weekend in high school. I should at least call him to say hi. It probably wouldn't hurt." And of course I'm aware of the fact that everyone has shit in their lives. Completely understandable. But I don't see a problem with posting it in a Livejournal. I would only fucking imagine that's what a livejournal is for sometimes. But who am I blaming I wonder? If I'm going to blame anyone, it's going to be myself to the fact that I thought I could maybe-if I prayed really really hard and I ate all my peas-that I would deserve a phone call and hear from friends to let me know that they're still a part of my fucked up and dysfunctional (and very much emotional) life. And which by the way, that wasn't the beginning of a conversation, more so, it wasn't even between you and me-had to break it to you, sorry. And more so, I did call you, but you were in Connecticut after Adam's formal. I called you to see how you were, to see how everything in your life was, but it got kinda interrupted and I didn't want to take you away from the hopefully good and enjoyable time you were having. I felt bad that I called you and probably interrupted you. Ain't that some shit? And I also asked you that night to see if you received your present that I got you, that I ordered through a catalog and freaked out that it wouldn't have been here on time, and much to my chagrin it arrived on time, but I forgot to bring it to work to give to Jasmine to give to you. But as far as you were concerned you were like "Oh as long as it's there in Jasmine's house, it won't go anywhere, I can always pick it up." How long did it sit there for I wonder. Cuz I remember the part that when you get a gift, you let it sit in someone else's house. And I kinda figured because I was working 7 days a week, I'd hit two birds with one stone and bring it to Jasmine to give to you, cuz there's a 99.9% chance you'd see her before me, plus at the time I saw her like maybe once or twice in 2-3 week periods. Plus when you work 7 days a week, taking an hour trip to the end of the lovely island of manhattan for which probably would have ended up being 10-15 minutes, (cuz of unusual tension etc.) and then an hour trip back. And bullshit you cleaned up. Hell ask Eli she helped me. Ask Kay's friend Beth, who fucking sat there all night and didn't even fuckin move-like she was scared or some shit. Oh and I bought you a gift that night too, cuz I just so happened to hate the idea of going somewhere to celebrate someone's birthday, empty-handed. If anything you cleaned the sheets of your parent's bed and yours and mostly straightened up and put the clean glasses and plates back in the cupboard.
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You're so hopped up on knowing that you're not wrong in the shit that you do that you don't care who you walk on. Cuz im not down right getting at you looking for trouble, maybe it's just a way for me to fucking reach out to you with out doing all the fucking work. It's fucking even more pathetic that THIS the most we've talken all year. And God give me a fucking break that you can go years without caring the least bit in the world what is going on with me? That's more of a concern to question. that you'd make a point saying that it would take years to even show some care as to what I was doing with my life...Fuck that. If you don't want to call me fuck it, I'm sorry i cried over you in the past.
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