Why did you stop? What did I say that made you want to stop? I think about it and you every day and I just want to understand. Or maybe I don’t. Maybe that would hurt, too. I don’t think I was myself. I wouldn’t always tell you the truth. I wanted you, frankly I still do for sick-a** reasons unknown, but I would lie sometimes because it seemed easier. I’m not some Positivity painting in the Louvre, I’m fucked-up and weird and I just wish I would’ve been more willing to offend you. To disagree, to argue a little. To be myself no matter what. I don’t like most common vulgar words for things but I wanted to talk to you about more than I was able to say. I hate this. I really hate this. I’ve never felt so f****** crazy over a person that I never even got to hold the hand of. It’s f****** psychotic. I am Mrs Robinson on crack, Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction if Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction had failed entirely in terms of banging the f*** out of Michael Douglas. I’m upset I even found this site, now I’ll never shut up.
