Dear Meexy
There are people I think about on a daily basis that I haven't seen in years. In fact, because I so often visit the memories that we share I get anxious at the thought of finding out how they're doing right now.
This feeling applies to both people I deem former friends and others I believe have wronged me.
It might sound cold, but I honestly have no desire to see them; I couldn't care less about what kind of people they've become—okay, that was partly a lie.
But, after having met you, I changed.
Even thinking back on the person that I used to be feels strange—is that really me? That person feels like such a foreign concept to me.
I don't even cringe at embarressing memories when they're brought up!
Ah, I knew death would slowly start taking away my humanity—bit by bit, piece by piece.
I don't blame you; it was fully my decision.
I just wish you'd accept my apology. It feels like forever since you last spoke to me.
I'm sorry Meexy.
This story was written with the intent to put the past behind me. To bury it where it belongs and finally move on. I'm sick of dredging up shit that only hurts me like some mentally-ill masochist.
I'm ready to be honest with us.
I know that you're probably not going to read this, but…
… this is me at my worst.
- J.
YOU ARE READING
A.M.W.
Paranormal"You're bleeding, but it's not blood," she once told me. What are you - "Don't play dumb," she interrupted. "You're bleeding, badly. "How is it obvious to everyone except you? You need help," she once told me. "For your own sake." Shut up. Stop talk...
