Twelfth letter

111 9 9
                                    

God, Alex. I miss you so fucking much.

When will you come back? Why are you doing this? What did I do wrong? I don't know how many times I wrote that. I always find my letters scattered or crumpled. Are you getting angry or tired? Because I am, Gaskarth. I don't know what to do anymore. You won't talk to me and tell me what's wrong. I'm not a fucking psychic to know what you're thinking.

Honestly, I'll just stop this non-sense because I'm done. If you're giving me the cold shoulder, I'll bring you a fucking hailstorm.

Hayley

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