dust

Two years, two years and there are ghosts everywhere. In honor of the occassion I'm listening to South. You know which album. I'm sitting in the same black chair. But this is a new desk, new computer, new room you have never seen and probably never will see.

You seem to have made it clear you never want to initiate contact with me. Whether or not you think it's for the best...I don't know your reasoning.

I know you'd probably respond to me if I talked to you. But I seemed to be wearing your patience thin. But what did you expect?

What did I expect.

It's cold in here. And I really should be in bed. But I'm not done moping.

Blogger sure has changed since the last time I was in here. I wonder what yours looks like now. I wonder where you are now. I still try like I did try (and I think I did) to trust you but it ate me alive. I wasn't the most secure person in the world but when you were there I Was fine...at elast, for the msot part.

Then things shifted and I sensed them and you denied it repeatedly. Then you got mad at me for it. You watched it hurt me. You watched me shake in pain and frustration and fear of my paranoia -- when it wasn't paranoia at all.

It was you.

Do you ever look at this thing? Can you?

You removed me after the letter in January.

I'm surprised I stayed on there that long.

What do you think of me now? Do you regret this? If you could take something back, what would it be?

The cheating on me, or the whole beginning we had in the first place?

I know
I know
I know
I know
I know I know I know I know.

You suck at follow through.

I just hate the fact

everything for

months now

has been

empty.