Dear Jack,
I'm getting sick and fucking tired of writing you these letters that you'll never fucking see. It seems like such a waste of time.
Then again, we both know that I have plenty of that.
I went back to school today. You weren't there. Where were you? Maybe you were too busy fucking your boyfriend.
I wish I could say I didn't care.
Fuck, I care so much.
But ohhhhh, you don't.
That's the irony in how we live
