I could sit here for hours writing about all the fucked up shit you do to me and how much it makes me hate everything about you.
I know that every time you go to sleep, you dream of me. I know everytime you wake up you wish that wasn’t your bestfriend next to you, I know the only reason you went to school was that chance to see me. I know that The only reason you bought a phone was so you could text me, even if I didn’t write back. I’m sorry.
