Sweet Pea.

My mind can't move two inches without running into thoughts of you.  I find myself spending a lot of my time wondering if you're wondering about me.  Is that a paradox of some sort?  I wish I could tell you all of the things that have been swimming in my head for the last two months.  But instead I'm writing you a note that you're never going to read.

I suppose that the worst part of all of this is that I still don't know why.  Sure, I have ideas and have hypothesized many concepts on why you left, but I'm never going to hear a real reason come out of your mouth.  I wish it hadn't been so easy for you to leave and move on.  It's like I didn't mean anything to you.  Fuck that, I know I didn't mean anything to you.  I opened up, told you things I was too scared to tell anyone else, and then you left.  Thank you for showing me that it's best to not tell anyone anything.

During the senior speeches for musical, I sat there thinking about how I won't have one.  If I don't kill myself by then, anorexia will.  I sat there thinking how I was struggling with all of the horrible and ugly thoughts in my head when I was with you, but how I was trying so hard to be better.  For you.  I tried so hard, because you were so worth it to me.  I kept telling myself if someone like you could love me, maybe I could love myself too.  Maybe it was unfair of me to become so dependent on you.

I see you everywhere.  I don't go looking for you but you still somehow manage to be everywhere I am.  It makes me angry.  You won't even look me in the eyes.  I don't understand how two people who used to talk everyday can go two months without saying a single word to one another.

I have days where all I want is to tell you about all the insignificant events that happened in my life that day.  Where I only want to talk to you about this book I read, or this drawing I started sketching.  You were one of my best friends.  I miss being friends with you the most.

I found an old note I wrote you when were dating, but must have forgotten to give to you.  It had a bunch of our inside jokes written on it (do you remember them?  I'm sure you don't.) and I said all these sweet things to and about you.  It was disgusting and I wanted to punch past-me in the face.  I really did love you.

I might have given you back every physical reminder of our time together, but I'm stuck with all the memories.  I'm existing with the ghost of you following me around.

I don't remember what you smell like.  I can't recall what it felt like to have your hand in mine.  I don't know what your laugh sounds like anymore.  I can't remember how your hugs felt.  I can barely even remember the sound of your voice.  I'll soon forget the color of your eyes.  And you'll forget mine.