I don't know why I'm writing to you. Maybe if I tried this hard before, things could have been different. Maybe. But you won't see any of these. They're just for me. To help me feel better. I'm not sure it's even working. I'm far from anything that could be considered happy. But, I guess, I'm not really sad either. I haven't cried over you. I want to say "you aren't worth my tears," but we both know that'd be a lie. You're worth every tear I could shed. If I could cry. I just don't feel anything at all. It's not until late at night, when I'm alone, that my mind starts racing. Thinking of you. Wondering if I made a mistake. The worst mistake of my life. What if I regret this decision forever? What if I never get over you? What if, what if, what if... I'm thankful for dreamless nights, at least. I feared that my dreams would be filled with you. If the only way to see you again was in my dreams, I'd either sleep forever, or never sleep again. I'm not certain of which one.
