Letters To Gerard. [Frerard]

The Twenty-Third Letter.

I miss you, and it hurts because I know you don't miss me too.

I think about you all the time, and I know that you don't think about me half as much, and I feel so alone.

I want to call you. My phone sits next to me with your number on the screen. Just one touch and I can call you. I can let you explain. I can have you back.

But I can't.

I'm not a doormat, Gerard. Maybe I was one before, but I refuse to be one now. I'm not picking up the pieces. You broke everything, you fix it. I don't care how.

Fuck, fuck, fuck this is so fucking messed up and I don't know what to fucking do because I'm nothing without you and you fucking messed up my fucking life how fucking dare you I fucking hate you Gerard I fucking hate you so fucking much and I'm fucking done.

I just miss you.

I miss us.

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