I was happy knowing you, and writing with you. Although we didn’t meet more than a few times, my stomach fluttered with butterflies everytime you wrote to me. Thinking of you brought a smile to my face. I didn’t think I was able to enter a real relationship at the time we began writing, but as we progressed, it didn’t seem that alien to me anymore. I liked you, and I still do. Everything about you is contributing to me liking you. Your beautiful smile, your voice, your innocence. Oh, so innocent you are, but still tempting. The way you say “really?”, and then that little sly smile makes me drawn to you. Even though I haven’t seen it more than once or twice, it’s as clear in my mind as my own reflection.
But all this, the dream of happiness, has now left me. You wrote to me, and said that you weren’t able to continue what we had started. It felt like someone had gripped my stomach, and slowly squeezed the air out of my lungs. Four months of happiness was washed out in mere seconds, leaving only disappointment and an empty feeling. I lie in my room right now. It feels like my life is breaking down. The only thing I feel like doing, is to go out, and drown myself in alcohol and cigarettes.