Dear you,

I miss you. Not that it really matters. Not that I ever show it, because I know you don’t care. And I know if ever one day I decided to tell you it would be like “oh whatever” or yeah.. Plus you have your life, I have mine. We both have our lives. You’re happy loving some other chic or having your “thing” whatever. I wish I knew why I felt like this but sorry I don’t. And I don’t want to just pop out of no where pouring out all my feelings to you like a dramatic fuck ‘cause I know I’d probably cry or something. But seriously this puts me in such a bad mood ‘cause I hate holding all this inside. And I don’t like crying, and so it just get’s me stuck in this pissy “fuck the world” mood. When I seem happy all the dang time. Anyway wish you the best of luck, deuces.