I’m drunk.

I got a letter in the mail today from an old best friend.

My response:

Dear Kelly,

I miss you.  I don’t know how it got to this.  I remember all the things we did together, all the time we spent together.  Like how we used to always go to the beach, almost every single day.  I remember laying out on your old front lawn on an old blanket with some juice boxes.  I remember you always making ramen and yummy pizza for me.  I remember how we used to sleep in your bed, back when you had your frame, and how we would watch movies and lame tv shows.  I remember when you had the dragons up on your wall and I had to help you erase them.  I remember Sasha and how you called her a shark and how funny I thought it was.  I remember sleeping out on your couches so that we could bake cookies at ungodly hours of the night.  I remember everything, even through my clouded, shaded thoughts.  I miss us being a duo and how we used to write to each other in a notebook, that I still have.  I remember telling you everything about everything.  And I especially remember that night at the movie theater when you introduced me, in person to, a now ex, boy.  I miss you and I can’t ever say it enough.  Just like sorry, and how I could never apologize to you enough about the rude, stupid things I said to you.  I am a horrible person and I can’t stand who I am and who I’ve become.  I look in the mirror and I hate; I hate what I see, I hate what I used to see and I hate to see the monster I have become.  I hate to see my red eyes and the slices in my wrists and the scars that line them.  I hate the things I said to you and I hate the way I acted.  I am so different and I will be the first to admit that I have changed so much since we were friends.  I love you, I miss you.  I hate the person that I have become, which I think drives me to be how I am.  I’m pretty much trying to destroy myself so that I don’t have to live this life anymore.  I miss what we had more than you’ll ever know.  I get choked up when I think of how we used to be.  I miss you.  I wish I had never met Joe, cos I think of how things could have been had we never met.  This life is stressful and not what I wanted or expected.  I stress and lose control.  I’m sorry, and I’m sorry more than you’ll ever know and I can’t stress that enough.  I miss you.

Or when you’re coming home.  

I left the keys under the mat to our front door;;

For one more chance to hold you close.

I don’t know where you’re goin’,

Just get your ass back home.  </3 </3