Turncoat
I didn’t fall asleep last night until five o’clock. I can’t stop thinking about her. I don’t know if I miss her, or want to rip her throat out for what she did to me. I’ve never seen anyone turncoat so quickly. I’ve been crying, a lot. I never cry. I’m passed angry, I’ve punched the wall and myself enough. My knuckles are swollen. I keep blaming myself, but I want to blame her. I always blame myself, so I’m not sure it is my fault.
I miss her.
I miss her.