(no subject)
Paul,
I want you to look at my page and be jealous.
Jealous that you fucked up and now I'm happy.
And you aren't a part of it anymore.
Problem is, you didn't fuck up and I'm not happy.
I mean, what were we going to do?
Continue down the path we were going on?
Yeah, that would have turned out really well...
It's my fault I'm not over this.
I thought I was.
And I should be by now.
I try to be, and I have a great time.
I have amazing friends, and am incredibly happy with where I'm going to school.
But it never fails. Every time I log on I look at your pictures.
And because I'm apparently masochistic I look at Michelle/Katie's pictures.
And it makes me want to cry.
And vomit.
And sometimes I do both.
I almost jumped out of my skin today when it said you commented me.
Then it was spam, and instead of being relieved, I was severely disappointed.
And I read all of your blogs a few months ago.
And found out you deleted the poem you wrote for me when I was on the cruise and couldn't talk to you much.
That killed me.
Do you still have the necklace made out of the coin?
Or did you never do it?
But what hurts me more is that you still have my name in your 'About Me' section.
Because for as much as I 'saved your life', It made me want to be with you more.
Remember when I erased your scars and you filled me?
I don't want to remember it.
But unfortunately I can't seem to forget it.
Ugh. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to read this now.
But, who am I kidding...you probably don't read them anymore.
But just in case you do, just know, I'm putting ticket on reserve for every show I'm ever in with your name on it. If one day you show up, I'll be happy.