"Though sympathy can't alter facts, it can make them more bearable."
It bothers me when I read through your current stuff. The "We should hang, unless you don't want to," the "fucked up" shit, all of that stuff that brands you as a loser. And yet...
What an idiot I am. Here I am, thinking everything's all over and done with, and then I scroll through old pictures. Like an idiot. And I see you, smiling that fucking smile that I swear I would kill to see again. So innocently happy and content and the fact that I put it on your face made it even better. And then I see a picture of me on that day at the carnival and I sigh because it was so long ago and so far gone. I'm not saying I still like you. I mean, I have feelings for you but not how they were. It's more like I just want to know what you think of me, to know that you'll be who you were. I need closure. And then, I swear, I'll move on. Totally and completely. Because even now, knowing I don't love you like I used to, I still think about you every day. And that's okay I guess. But seeing that old picture made me miss you and even like you a little bit. But that's just it. I liked him. The boy in the picture. Not you now. And if there's one thing I'm certain of, it's that the 13 year old boy with the spiky hair, the blue ink covered hands, the shy smile, the innocence and insecurity that I so loved, is gone. And I just don't think he's coming back. Not anymore. At least not for me.
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