Because I want this blog to start taking a more humorous direction. This is going to be my last emotionally charged post on here ever.
Dear Jaymie Ngov,
I know you don't care anymore. I know I've probably said this to you before in a different manner. I know you're probably never going to read this anyway.
I honestly regret everything stupid I've done to you ever, from asking you out over the phone when I should've done it in person, to making you pay for almost everything, to ruining our night at rage, to yelling at you outside of the crib. It all haunts me in the back of my head every morning when I wake up. I'm fully aware of what I lost, are you? Will it ever even matter?
Really though, you can/can't blame me for being a crazy jack-ass to you since we broke up. I'd never been more in love with anyone. Everybody and especially YOU knew how fucking excited I was for you to move up here. Everybody knew how bitch-whipped you had me. And everybody, especially you, knew how disappointed I was that you dumped me on a text message a week before you moved up. In the end, you're just as wrong as I was. But do you really even care?
I was open with you about the wrong things. I love/loved you more than anything and you were literally one of my top priorities. Could I get up the guts to tell you that without getting completely nervous? No. Could I get up the guts that I made out with two straight guys while drunk (which you really shouldn't have been pissed about seeing as they're STRAIGHT and I was totally devoted to you and you knew that)? Yes. What the fuck was wrong with me?
I'd understand if you didn't even want to try to be friends or anything anymore. Nothing I did was right, It was just a blown-up reaction to small shit you did. It also completely blows that there's so much more shit we could actually do together now. It also completely blows that you're probably never going to know how I completely felt about you, and/or I'm probably never going get to tell you to your face and have you give a fuck. I wish I was more of myself with you instead having this sort of emotionally tough and inconsiderate front around you half the time.
In the end, I'm not really bitter at all. I'm just disappointed with you and with myself. Like I've said before, if I could fix everything, I would. If you ever give me the chance to fix everything, I will. I'm not saying I'm waiting around for you, hoping you'll come back like the pathetic ass i've been acting like. This wasn't supposed to be like this. And if you have a problem with me saying that, get over it, I've never felt like I've wronged someone as bad as I've wronged you ever. I expect and wish for nothing. Whatever happens, happens. I'm sorry.
I wish you and what's-his-name the best of luck or whatever. I'm not interfering with it.
My life's really not bad without you, although I sometimes/always wish you were still part of it/actually in it.
I love you, kind of always will. You're pretty much my "high school sweetheart" as old people put it. But any feelings i may or may not have for you are not going to stop me anymore.