Dear,
I think it's funny— hilarious actually— that I pretend I don't care and that I dislike everyone.
And the truth?
No matter how much I say I don't care.
I do. And it sucks cause my heart physically aches when I'm hurt by someone I cared about.
And I kick myself in the ass every time I talk shit about someone behind there back, and then go out of my way to ensure their happiness.
And it sucks because I truly don't want to care. And I feel like, if I say it enough, someday I won't.
What a fucking mess I am.
I'll never learn, will I?
YOU ARE READING
My Dearest
PoetryThese are personal letters written to those I've loved, letters by which by no means are ever to be read by who they are intended for. Also rant/vent in here occasionally. I don't want comments on those chapters.
