How can you still be doing this to me? I haven't spoken to you in over four months. And yet...

I sat around today, thinking about everything that happened. I cried today. And it felt good. I cried that I lost you, but not because you were gone. I cried because it hurt so bad and I was too naive to realize I had the power to stop it. I cried because I lived in that hell for four months without reason. I cried because I gave everything I had in me to give, and it still wasn't enough. And now I wonder if it'll ever be enough for anyone. That's why I cried.

So I sat around, aware of the upcoming summer. How will it go? Will I still cry over the same old shit? I want to think I'm strong enough, but I know better. I know that I'm still not over this. I think I'm over you, but I don't think I'll ever respect you again. Not after you abused my love as much as you did. We had something special, but you were too caught up in your conquest to realize that I was holding out my heart to you. You looked away, you looked at her, and suddenly... I was invisible.

When I thought I was over you the first time, I got it in my head that I never loved you. But that was my way of trying to downplay what we had. I thought that if I convinced myself that it wasn't love, then it'd be easier to forget... you. But no. No, it was love. It was as much as I could've felt for you at this time in my life. Maybe, years from now, it'll feel frivolous, like the spring breeze, but right now, it's an avalanche.

So I wrote today. I wrote three poems in which I talked to you, knowing you'll never even hear of them, much like this. You'll never know I'm still feeling this four months after it was all over. You'll never know I'm this weak.

I want someone to tell me I'm silly for feeling this still. Then maybe I'll think you're silly, and that would suit me. I want someone to remind me Joey Ramone died today and that other people, not just famous ones, die every day, and that's real loss. Stupid teenage relationships aren't anything, right? This blow to... well, to my life will soon be forgotten, right? Will someone please assure me that I'm going to forget you soon?

I want to use a million people the way you used me. I want to hurt a million people the way you hurt me. I want a million people in this country to feel this horrible and this empty, yet full of hopeless feelings, the way I do right now.

I just want to feel alive again.