Sloane, [DISCONTINUED]

̶t̶̶h̶̶r̶̶e̶̶e̶

Dear Sloane,

     So I was reading the other letters I've written to you. And WOW do I sound lame. All this "I'm so sorry" and "I'll always love you" (which, I am and I will). It's just, I feel like there's nothing to my life anymore.

     It's like, you left and I just became this sad, shell of a person. You're my everything, but why? How did I let you become so much to me? Why did I just fall apart when you left? How did I give you so much power, that I became nothing without you? It's like you left, and you took my insides with you. (Although that would be pretty gross. Can you imagine walking out of my apartment carrying my organs in your purse?)

     I want to be happy, I really do, it's just, how? For a long time, you were the only constant in my life. I was so used to having you around. Now the only consistent thing about my life is this sadness. You were this constant factor in the equation of my life, and then you were subtracted, and now everything just feels inequal. Math disgusts me.

      Well, here I am, sitting alone in an empty loft that's too cold to actually be living in. I can't feel my fingers anymore but I guess that's just a part of not being able to afford heat. Don't become a writer, Sloane, although I know you never will. We just don't make a whole lot of money.

     I saw this girl yesterday in the coffee shop, she reminded me of you. Her hair was brown, and not as curly, but she probably had as many freckles as you, if not more. I take that back, I don't know if there will ever be a human with more freckles than you. She was really beautiful, actually. I took her order and we chatted a bit. Just friendly talk; I recommended the apple twist, she asked about the decorations in the windows (which I had no idea about). Standard stuff really, though.

      I wonder what you'd be thinking, if you were reading this. I wonder how you'd react if I said I had found someone new (although I wouldn't say a stranger in a coffee shop could count as 'someone new'). I wounder if you'd be jealous, or glad that I would be moving on. Or maybe it would be a little bit of both. As the tootsie pop owl says, "the world may never know." That commercial always annoyed me.

         You  know what words I hate? "Would have" and "should have." Those two combinations of two words absolutely sicken me. Because "would have" sounds like an excuse; like you're guilty of not doing something, and trying to make up for it. "Should have" is worse though. Because those two words are filled with so much regret, sadness, and guilt that it's kind of overwhelming. "Should have" are the words that replay through your mind at night, the words imprinted on your brain as you ingest ounce after ounce of liver-killing fluids that don't even taste very good. They're ugly words that plant even uglier thoughts in your head.

     I don't even remember what I was talking about before this. I swear, my thoughts are all over the place. I'm like a squirrel; I can't focus on one thing for a long time. But maybe squirrels can focus for a long time. I don't even know anything about squirrels.

     I think happiness is very attainable. I know I was there once, so I can get there again someday, right? I just want to something other than pain. I want to do something other than think about you. See I say all these things, but I don't do anything about it. I'm sitting here, writing letters to a woman who left me (that I pushed away), complaining about my life. This isn't going to help me. If I want to be happy, I have to make myself happy. I'm here waiting for you to come back and make me whole again when I should be trying to complete myself.

      Well I think it's time to retire to my quarters and try to get some shut-eye (even though I have to be at work in a couple hours.)

        Until next time,

         Jeremy