Dear you

I hate myself for giving is a chance. Although it made me who I am today. I hate myself for believing your tall tale lies of always being there if I needed you because when I did, I was left with echoes of our unfulfilled and apparently meaningless interaction. I hope I never see you again yet I browse to see if your doing OK. I’m dead inside once again and I suppose its better that way. Whose to listen to one more girl complaining about her unfulfilled desires. I feel worthless, thrown out like a used rag. Insomnia laughs me in the face and I must be up in 2 hours in hopes of persuing my dreams. All of which you are weaved from and all of me unpinned from your vision board. All that remains is loss and a foul taste in my mouth. Have a good life. I hope you make it big.


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