It still aches me to write this, but here's a letter, or something of the category, writing down the reasons why my heart still throbs at the mention of your name. I'm mystified by my mixed feelings. I'm split between hating you and missing you. I suppose it's your newfangled freedom that triggers the airy expression upon your charmingly carved face. Getting over you is a despairing effort I've been on for months, because without the all too familiar gut-rending heartache. I'm deserted on the side. I gave you the power to make me feel complete and now I'm lacking of that feeling altogether. I knew your feelings were temporary stoned, and now I'm drunk in the worst way possible.
YOU ARE READING
Memoirs Of A Crying Darling
RandomShe always tried to write happy stories and think happy thoughts and to adumbrate the future that may or may not await her.
