The lies.

     I fucking miss you. I'm not going to lie. Not even to myself. In order to truly hold onto a lie and make it true for someone else, one must first get themselves to believe the lie. I don't love you, that's a lie. I don't want you, that's a lie. I don't miss you, that's a lie. A real lie, and I've been believing them to be true for a couple weeks now and I'm so tired of that. Maybe now I can sleep.Maybe now I can focus on one thing. Maybe now I can stop sleeping with your jacket and maybe now I'll throw YOUR jewelry out of a moving car window. I won't though, because I still plan on returning all of it. I have it down to the day, actually. Of when I plan on giving you back your stuff. I hope by then it will no longer bear the gory sentimental value that it does now.

     I don't want to be dead. That's a lie. I don't dream about you anymore. That's a lie. I don't see Elizabeth everywhere. That's a lie. This pain is unbearable, I miss you so much and my belongings are slowly being broken as a result. Thank God I put all of my guitar stuff away, that would have been terrible. So terrible. The plain truth, Jane, is that I love you and I want you more than anything I can think of. I'm just not good enough for you. I hate myself for that, I always will. I'll never be someone that you don't resent sometimes no matter what happens between us. I'll never genuinely want to be cliche. I'll never be able to be strong enough for you and I hate myself for that, I always will.

     I'm coming for you. watch your blind side.