dear john,
i told you that you reminded me of an old (boy)friend, and that it was making me remember. (i don't want to remember.)
and then it all came back.
all the memories.
how i killed him. how he took his life because of me. i'm a murderer, john, and you should never love me because of it.
you told me it wasn't my fault, but i know better. the bottom line is, if i didn't exist, he would still be alive.
and now i'm crying.
love, me.
