Letter Twenty Seven

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Dear Troye,

I hate you being famous, people don't give a shit about me. We went on Tv today for your stupid interview and they made fun of me in front of you. They said I looked hella gay and that I must've married three gay men. You just laughed along with them and told them they were 'good jokes'.

Someone sent me razor blades, told me to kill myself, that you wouldn't miss me. I showed you and you didn't care, just told me to flush them.

I have them hidden under the sink though you don't know that. You kissed me when I went to sleep and it made me happy.

I love you,
Con x

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