You've been out all day and I'm feeling lonelier than ever. Actually, you've been out all this week and you only come home at two in the morning. By the time I wake up, you're gone again. Where do you go? You won't tell me.
I'm writing this because I have no other way to get through to you. We haven't talked in, I don't know, eight days? The most we've talked in that time was just a 'good morning.' And that was once. Two fucking words. That's all you've given me over the course of eight. Fucking. Days.
Why don't you talk to me anymore? Did I do something?
I love you. You know that I love you no matter what. So why are you pushing me away?
This could be the first and last letter. I don't know. If you read this, maybe you'll talk to me again. I miss you, Gerard. I miss you. Don't you miss me too? Don't you love me? We've been together for over a year. You haven't told me you love me in a month. It hurts when I tell you I love you every day and you never have a response. If you don't love me, quit hurting me. Let me go. You're hurting me and yourself.
Please, please, please, Gerard. If you read this, at least give me a sign. You don't even have to speak. Don't leave me here thinking that I have no way of communicating with you. I've tried talking to you. I tell you that I love you every day and every night. But you never reply. I try asking you how your day went and what's up. And guess what, Gerard. You still don't reply.
You didn't sleep with me last night. You slept on the couch. When I asked you why, you ignored me. Why? Does hearing my voice hurt you? Because not hearing yours hurts me. I miss your voice. I don't want to forget your voice. But if you don't talk to me, how do you expect me to not forget?
I'm sorry if this letter is harsh, but I miss you even when you're two feet away from me, and you've left me with no other way to communicate with you than writing letters.
You know how I get when I'm lonely. If you don't care, then fine. But I know you do. I'm positive you do. That's one of the few things I can still be sure of. Loneliness is my weakness, and you know that. You know what happened last time I was lonely. You know how afraid I am of silence. I love you, and you know I'll never leave. Maybe that's why you're doing this to me. Because you know that you'll always win, because I love you too much to let you go.
I hope you read this. I want you to know what I'm feeling.
I love you. You know I love you.
But do you still love me?
