I still think of you. Everyday. I’m scared that I always will. It frustrates me. I’m frustrated because I was so convinced that there was something ridiculously different about you and me. In my world there was something insanely special and unexplainably amazing. I didn’t even know you. How could something like that happen so quickly? I was thrown into confusion. I was desperate for you in my life. It had to be love. You were my first love.
What was I to you? That’s where the frustration comes in. I was a pest to you. A pure wretched pest that kept wasting your time and your texts. You were so much to me, I was so little to you. I still am. I always will be. I thought about maybe trying to fix it. Maybe I could attempt to prove to you that I wasn’t a psycho bitch. I still think about it. But what’s the point now? Trying to prove it would just backfire and make me look more psycho. It’s frustrating.
What else is frustrating is the fact that I need to post a letter to you on this website so that you’ll get out of my head. Tonight’s particularly bad.
It’s frustrating that you aren’t thinking of me as I write this. It’s frustrating that you’re living your life and I’m stuck. It’s frustrating that I’m so pathetic when it comes to you. It’s frustrating that I can let someone like you control me. It’s frustrating that this isn’t the only letter i’ll never send. There’s plenty of them.
I’m sorry my feelings towards you are so strong. I’ll get over it. I’m a big girl. I don’t even know you. If there was a way to reach inside me and make this stop I would. They’re just feelings. I can’t do much about them.
But I guess you can say the same…