Still Writing About You

I remember when I first met you…you were that attractive and happy person who was always smiling. I would repeatedly think about your smile, dreaming that I could be the reason behind it someday.

Then we started talking. We would talk for hours about things that made sense and things that didn’t. We’d discuss important issues and trivial matters. We just talked, losing track of the time we spent together.

The days went by, and we still talked. But, oddly, I felt empty. I found out you were close to someone else. You were as close to that person as you were to me, and I didn’t like it. Call me selfish, but I wanted to be the one you’d share you secrets with. And when you got in a fight with that other person, I was satisfied. However, other people came into your life, and you were so weak you just couldn’t resist letting them in. Other people found out about your hidden sensitive soul, and suddenly, I realized I wasn’t someone important anymore.

Now, I feel like you and I are drifting away from each other, and the only thing I could do is continue writing about you, hoping that someday you’d read my notes and realize that I was always there for you, longing for your love, fighting to get my special place in your life back.

— December 13th, 2001 —


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