And every time I try to talk to you in hopes you’ll say something like you used to and spark that interest in me again, you don’t, you treat me like shit and don’t even make an effort to try to have a conversation. It feels really shitty, really fucking shitty. You’ve done everything to push me out of your life, and who knows the last time I’ve even heard your voice or you’ve heard mine, because you don’t want to remember that what we had was real and we were connected souls, its easier to call me a pussy and a bitch but you don’t know the hurt because you were the one that went and replaced me. And I know I’m twice the man of any guy you will ever find, so its funny you can keep trying and continuing to delude yourself but you’ll never find a person that will make you as happy as I did and I know that for a fact. I’d like to see any other person pull you out of the depression you were in— that you wouldn’t even let your family close, and doing it with little means to even contact you, let alone I could hardly be there. I guess the reason I’ve been coming back and talking to you was in hopes you would see how special I still am, but you’ve only made it plainly obvious that you don’t think I am. So I’ll go back to meaningless hookups and listening to unstimulating conversations with dumb girls and my only consolation is that really, you are no different.
