February 9th, 2009

(no subject)

Dear Boy-I-Used-To-Know,

I'm not going to call you.  I just thought you should know.  It's nothing personal.  It's just that this is the first time in a month that black is dripping down my eye sockets.  I can't be friends with you.  How many times have I told you?

I know you got dumped and I'm extremely sorry (not really).  But if you learned anything from our relationship I would hope that it was to hold onto the people you love.  To fight for it.  If you are in love with her, make sure she knows that.

And that's what I'm doing right now.  I would call and tell you this but I can't.  I hate saying it.
I mean, I have two perfectly good boys after me right now.  They are amazing and I know they would love me with everything they could muster.  One sculps love stories out of metal and one leaves flowers on my car for my birthday.
But, you see, I couldn't love them they way they deserve.
The boy who left flowers on my car told me that you were mopey about not knowing what you could give someone in a relationship.  You could give a lot.  I know you could.  Really, child?  You have a hell of a lot to give.

I'm just getting this over with.

I'm in love with you.
I always will be.  This is just a fact I've come to notice.  No matter how much I push it down and around, under old dusty boxes it will lay. 
But knowing you want to be friends and only friends is not going to cut it for me.  This is the first time I've been this happy in the longest time.  I am handling things extremely well.  I cannot wait for you, because you won't come. 

And to me, it seems like what you do is date.  You've dated and dated so many girls.  They weren't happy with you for one reason or another, but just know I was.  Don't worry about not acting on this Pam girl.  In a few months you'll like someone else.  And perhaps the cycle will repeat, or maybe it will stop.
All I'm saying is one day you'll have to grow up and realize this.  And you can forget about it, say I'm lying.  I could be.  I'm a bitch after all.

We may have thunder and lightning on Wednesday.  Watch it.  Dance in it.  Please.

P.S. I thought you hated cigarrettes?  Fuck that, it's absolutely disguisting and when I heard you were smoking them I wanted to vomit all over every poem you have ever written.