I love you so damn much. I pretend I can’t stand the sight of you because you treat me like I’m dead. You go out of your way to ignore me and you only talk to me when it’s to say something hurtful. And even after all that, it still kills me when I hear people talk badly about you. I wish people liked you. I wish you had guys you could hang out with instead of the flock of girls that just want to sleep with you. I know the real you. I know you have an anger problem that you can’t control, much less talk about. I know how bad your social anxiety is and how hard you try to cover it up. I know that for your first year of high school, you couldn’t eat around other people without vomiting because you were so nervous. I know how sad you are because I see it in your eyes. Not all the time, but a lot of the time I see how lost you are. I know you’re not happy with your girlfriend because she goes against everything you believe in. She does drugs and parties, and you always were dead set against that. Not only that, you’re a Christian and she’s an atheist. (not saying either of those are bad things)
I’m not crazy. I didn’t stalk you. I know you. For two years, we were joined at the hip. It always hurts to see you or hear your voice and not be able to talk to you. It hurts to be afraid of what you might say or do because you hate me so much. I know I’m not much better…but with me it’s all an act. I tried being nice. I tried to make amends, but you didn’t want that. Now I always pretend I don’t care at all or that I hate you. Neither of those are true. I miss you. I want to see the old you alive again. Something happened to you. You’re sad and dark and not the boy I once knew. I miss you.
