So I’m here again, staring at this damn screen, wondering what you think of me.
The thing is, deep down, I know that you don’t think of me; I wish you did but you have hardly spoken to me and I don’t want to bother you.
I hope that you might email me, or something, anything. But you don’t.
And really, honestly, you have no need to. I don’t mean anything to you, I know this, I just wish I could get it through my head properly.
If you do ever read this – and I think it unlikely – maybe you could take a minute to remember that you mean so much to people, even if you don’t know it.