I don’t know why I’ve allowed you to hurt me this much. I don’t know why I allowed you to let my fingers get smashed in a door by my mother’s lousy boyfriend ether. I got my phone taken away, like
I’m in elementary again, and I fought for possession of it only to await for the texts that would never come from you. I cut tonight, also got drunk too. I’m doing all these stupid things just to
allow you to notice me, hear all the desperation that all my actions symbolize. But you won’t take notice. I know guys like you, and that’s probably why I’m trying this hard to prove myself wrong.
I want things that don’t exist, and you my friend hardly exist in the proper ending that I should expect out of you and I. It’s sad, but somehow, once all this intense emotion blows over I’ll
realize that. I’m trying to recollect why I like you so much. You’re right, you’re just a kid that tries too hard. Maybe, I find comfort in that. I don’t know. You made me feel less alone, I
suppose that’s what it boils down to. Your effort in being different allowed me to feel less like an odd ball, concocting the same exact unreachable accomplishment within myself. It’s funny, for
someone whom is suppose to be so obsessed with you, I can’t even recollect what the first time with you felt like. I just know after the feeling of having someone near me felt good. I suppose I
feel that way with most everyone I give my body to. But for some reason I can’t move forward from this. I feel if I fix you, make you monogamous and happy to be with me, therefore, I’ll be happy to
be near me as well. All is fixed. But since I don’t like being near me, and I’m surely entrapped within me, I shouldn’t expect you to want to stick around ether. It’s just funny how life plays out
that way. If you get the chance to read this before your long line of emotionless fucks do. I hope you realize how much I blindly cared about you. Your fights felt like my fights at times, and vice
versa on some occasions. I miss that. But, I think since I’m writing this letter, letting everything that I’ve been suppressing for months now, pour out, I think I have to let you go along with
everything else I’m revealing to the public. My wishes for this letter is that once I write it, I’ll never want to talk to you again, yearn for an invitation to be physically near you. That when
sporadically you make communication with me, I’ll ignore it like a fly on the wall. This thing I’ve created in my head has been drawn out for far too long. I need to just jump over it and release
myself form your memory. As the burning on my left arm cries out, I hope it only leads to a pleasure filled future from here on out. I don’t think that I’ll be able to eliminate all that’s chaotic
within my family, but I’m willing to try. I figure if I can let go of you, maybe there will be a better chance at rekindling my sanity, because after tonight, I’m desperate for it. I realize, that
though the pretty things you said to me before, via text, meant fully nothing but a gateway into my panties again, it made me happy, and I’m sure I can find that with someone more sincere if I
really allow myself. I really do care about you, I don’t think that’s fake, I don’t know why I do. Considering all the nasty things you allowed the public to bestow upon me to protect yourself.
Very non heroic. I still try to believe that all the positive things I saw in you have a purpose and will do great things for the general good of all you surround yourself with.
© Copyright 2016 Kathleen Megquier. All rights reserved.