About You

This is a story for me, since it's about me of course. But I didn't write it, I found it too late.
I once came across an old journal tucked at the bottom of my drawer, hidden and mostly damaged. I was packing for college and decided to clean my room anyway. I could never imagine being written about, no. The way I was told about. It was like being poured down with a bucket of cold water but somehow feeling nothing. I wanted to run, run after the time it was written. How awful is the feeling to miss someone who once sat quietly but spoke a million words, you just didn't know then.
I found pages written to me and I can't bring you back to tell you what it took. They were written 4 years ago and we don't even speak anymore. So I'll tell your stories back to you, this time to the world. This time, from my eyes.