I wish I knew what you were, are, and will think, because this is driving me crazy. Why must my insecurity and general shyness be a hindrance to what I want and feel? I know you liked me, but now I’ll never know for sure. Well, being ignored is actually a pretty strong indication of what it was you felt. But you hated contact me, apparently, but you ignored multiple requests I made of you, and I dislike being ignored. If you gave me a chance, I know we could have had so much fun. It didn’t even have to be something serious. Just a summer fling, a last youthful glimpse at loving someone without the knowledge that we could eventually hurt each other. I want you to know that I really cared for you, but I used you without your knowledge, so you let me go because you could not decipher my intentions. When we meet again, we’ll both know what we each felt about the other and smoke a J and feel alright. You caused me grief, painfully, happy grief that gave me meaning and inspiration. But now that inspiration is gone. Good-bye.