• umbrella

    by  • February 7, 2012 • * Safe for Work *, Miss You • 1 Comment

    I got you a clear plastic bubble umbrella for Christmas. It’s in my room. Looking at it makes me more sad everyday that passes. I tried to call you. Twice. I can’t tell whether your phone is broke or whether you’re just ignoring me. It’s going to rain tomorrow. I wanted to give you your gift so you could try it out.

    The last time I talked to you, I told you how I missed you so much it hurt. I feel really stupid for having been so honest.

    You are/were? the closest friend I ever had. Everyone around me would just use me and walk all over me, but you were the only one who didn’t. At least, I thought you didn’t. I don’t know anymore. I’ve thought about things so much now that everything is distorted. You are the only person who has made me cry as much as I have the last few months. You are the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning. You are the last thing I think of when I go to bed. I have had so many sad dreams about you. Everything around me reminds me of you. Every time I see a Honda Civic, I think it might be you. Do you know how many Honda Civics there are here? A lot. I need to know if we are still friends. If you hate me. If you like me less. If you still love me. I am scared of what you will say. I am scared that this is it. That it’s all over. That I fucked up a good thing. You were the only good thing. I miss you. I’m sorry.

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    One Response to umbrella

    1. christina
      February 7, 2012 at 4:31 am

      reading this, i hear the rain outside and i suggest you throw that damned umbrella out for whoever you bought it, because if it were for me i’d have to say i went out and stood in the rain and loved every second of it…



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