January 19th, 2009

(no subject)

Dear Self,

I've said it a thousand times and, goddammit, I mean it.
Stop it! stopitstopitstopit!
He's moved on, why can't you?

I can't seem to get him out of my head.  There are two boys after me and all I can do is flirt back with them, smiling, and then turn them down later.  I do not think of anyone else but you and I am sick of it.  I told myself I am moving on and that is what I'm supposed to be doing.

It has been four months.  Four months.  He hasn't had feelings for you for four. fucking. months.  Give it up already!

You haven't even talked to the fucking boy for a month!  A WHOLE MONTH!
Just cut it out.  Seriously.  He wasn't that great. 

Sincerely,
R.A.M.

P.S. He was pretty great, I can't lie.  He was more or less perfect for me.  I could handle him and his drugs.  I helped.  I was better than heroin, after all.