Why in the fuck aren’t you saying anything. It’s making me mad, like really mad. And I guess it only makes me mad because you worry me. I’m worried that you’ll go around and change your mind. And tell me you don’t want to do this anymore. And that scares the hell out of me.
Even though you’re constantly fucking up, I care about you so much. And the thought that you’d give up on us scares me. It scares me so much.
So say something soon. You know, before I go crazy or something. Call you up thirty times in row, send you a dozen texts, compose letters saying ‘I’m angry, I love you’ all because you haven’t said anything for like four hours.
You know I hate that. When you don’t say anything.
I hope that you didn’t bring her with you when you went to the college tour (if you even went at all). Because that’s our place. Our place. Secretly though, I don’t even think you did go at all. I think you’re working right now. And you probably slept in late and didn’t receive my messages until this morning. You’ve probably been not saying anything to me because I’m overreacting and you’re confused because you think I’m never going to forgive you. I am though. I am. I just need time and space. Time and space.
I hope you haven’t given up on me, on us. I’m not going to give up on you. I hope you feel the same way about me too.
I once believed that writing angry letters and not sending them didn’t make any sense. But I guess this makes sense, writing you letters you won’t be receiving. I don’t know. I just fucking wished you’d say something.
Damn, I miss you, you motherfucker. I miss you so much. When we talked yesterday, we were smiling. I was smiling because I love how it feels when we talk. It feels so good. I love that. And I miss that so much.
So can you just crack already and chase me? I promise I’ll run slow.