43 Days After The Falling Out, 96 Before The End
Dear you,
I miss you, that’s the best way I could ever possibly word it. My words aren’t beautiful like yours are, I bet if you missed me you’d find some long way of saying it that would make me think, I bet it would go something like “Now I long for the eyes I once hated.” You always talked about my eyes, damn you, damn you and every ounce of you and your beautiful self. I hate you. I hate you, and your long hair, and your perfect teeth, and I hate that I also miss all these things. I hate that the music I listen to reminds me of you, the way you would play your stupid mix CDs that you made me while I drove, and how you would put your feet on my dash and throw your head back singing, I hate that I grew to love those songs just as I loved you and now I can’t listen to them just like I can’t have you.
When I started writing this I actually hoped to send it, I hoped to tell you how much I miss you, how I miss the way you smelled and the way you danced and the way you kissed me like nobody else ever could or ever can, but now for obvious reasons I can’t send it. I’m sorry about that, I probably don’t deserve you anyway. I probably don’t deserve your long beautiful legs and perfectly shaped lips, or to take you out for nice dinners or walks at midnight, dammit, I never deserved you in the first place did I?
God while now I’m sorry for even starting this in the first place, I really am, it won’t happen again. I’m sorry, I hope you’re doing better without me.
I’d say love but I don’t think we’ve been able to use those terms for a while,
Me
45 Days After The Falling Out, 94 Before the end
Dear You,
I was looking at pictures of us again, I really need to stop that, I really need to stop touching up the tattoo of you on my heart and memory. I love the way you dressed. I love how you were always in jeans and t-shirts, not sweats or skirts, you were so perfect. You never fit into a category really, there were those who dressed up, and those who dressed down, and you. Your hair was always the same, falling down your back in messy waves, not straightened or done up, not put up to dress down, just you. You made me such a better person by being that; I never had to fit into a category when you loved me, which I really believe you did. I got to be me because I didn’t have to be someone who fit with you, because I fit with you, and you fit with me.
God I love you,
Me
67 Days after the falling out, 73 Before the End
Dear You,
I talked to your friend last night, the one who was always trying to get me when I never wanted anybody but you. We kissed. I don’t understand because I still want nobody but you, I told her that, and I got angry, and started crying, and punched a wall, then she kicked me out.
I am an idiot.
She told me you’re okay, she told me she doesn’t think that you’ve forgotten about me either. If you ever read this tell her I’m sorry for how I acted, and that she’s very beautiful, and that I can’t do whatever she wants to do in honor of her and in honor of you.
I really am sorry,
Me
