that last post just proved my point more, we have so much god damn history, and i have so much to write about you. i hate it, i’ve grown to detest it because i’m the one who messed it up. if i hadn’t hurt you, it would have been okay. but now, i hate myself for it. it’s hard for me to be around this fucking town, because there are just so many memories and fucked up things and i just want to be done with it all. it makes me vulnerable. some days i hate you, and some days i hate you even more, but everyday i love you. not even in a romantic way anymore, i just love you to pieces. i mean i could love you like that again but then that means me turning into an obsessive, over analyzing bitch. i don’t want that ever again, never will i place myself in that light.
i should just go through the archives of my blog and count how many fucking posts or references i made to you. there would be so fucking many, it’s really embarrassing.
you’re going to read this and scoff, and just call me a dramatic cunt again. i’ll take it, but i was never dramatic with you. that was how i always actually felt, and it was the lowest blow to think that you thought i was faking it all.
