Ack.
I have nowhere else to put this, so I'd just like to put it here...
Dear Jonny,
Hey. How's life? It feels weird not knowing what's going on. Did you know they're going to give you a promotion? I do. But you're not speaking to me so I can't tell you.
I wonder why I felt the need to write to you. I think it's because I'm not coping. I've told friends...but they just keep saying that they wish they knew what to do or say, but they don't. You usually knew. But I can't tell you this time.
Why can't you just make this a little easier and speak to me? It would really make me feel good to at least think that you wanted me as a friend. I could even have a mature and open conversation about what the hell went wrong. Why won't you answer my letter/s? I don't think that you understand how much I need it. It's so tough, because you don't see that in delaying an answer I think that you are doubting what you've done. But I know it isn't true.
People give me such conflicting opinions of what you could be feeling. Most tell me to give you space and time, and that you might realise what you're missing and come back. But some tell me to get over it. Move on. What if I go into the pub and you're kissing someone else, that's what they tell me.
Which am I supposed to do? I need you to tell me that. I need to know. I am willing to wait, so so willing, but I don't want to live through this constant hurt and just not know. If you think there is a chance then I will do anything you ask of me to turn that chance into a reality.
You see, I have disillusioned myself into thinking there could be a chance. That you are doubting what you did. That secretly you are hurting just as much as I am, and when you're on facebook you are looking through my pictures, or reading old emails and comments from me and wondering what happened. Wishing you could ask me back, if only you knew how.
I wish I could make you see how much this is killing me. I feel like my heart is slowly being ripped down the middle. Each day I wait for it to get better, but it just gets slower. Feels more hopeless. I may walk aroung, pretending that I am on the mend, that I am more positive, that I am getting over you. Then each day I end up alone doing my ritual sob. Absolute body shaking, soul destroying sobbing, that I wish never to hear from another human being.
They've told me that they like me. Two of them. They may even have had a chance before. I went out with one tonight. He was trying to kiss me. I knew it. But I just couldn't go through with it. But what if that changes? I want to grab you by the shoulders, shake you, ask you if you realise you could lose me to people like this. Your 'friends'. I'm just not sure you'd care. You might even tell me to go for it.
But this can't be happening, this love can't just be gone. Each night I put my arm out, or turn over just to cuddle you from behind, but I wake when I realise it's not you, it's just a big pile of stupid daft fucking cuddly animals, half of which you bought for me. In the morning, I turn to see your face still sleeping silently, but you're not there. In my car, when my radio isn't on, it's deadly silent. You're not next to me, and you're not even calling me. I drove home from the cinema tonight with him, took him back, then spent the journey to here singing our song and crying into the steering wheel. Real pathetic, huh?
Please answer me. Please help me.
And please let it be the answer I need.
Please.
Dear Jonny,
Hey. How's life? It feels weird not knowing what's going on. Did you know they're going to give you a promotion? I do. But you're not speaking to me so I can't tell you.
I wonder why I felt the need to write to you. I think it's because I'm not coping. I've told friends...but they just keep saying that they wish they knew what to do or say, but they don't. You usually knew. But I can't tell you this time.
Why can't you just make this a little easier and speak to me? It would really make me feel good to at least think that you wanted me as a friend. I could even have a mature and open conversation about what the hell went wrong. Why won't you answer my letter/s? I don't think that you understand how much I need it. It's so tough, because you don't see that in delaying an answer I think that you are doubting what you've done. But I know it isn't true.
People give me such conflicting opinions of what you could be feeling. Most tell me to give you space and time, and that you might realise what you're missing and come back. But some tell me to get over it. Move on. What if I go into the pub and you're kissing someone else, that's what they tell me.
Which am I supposed to do? I need you to tell me that. I need to know. I am willing to wait, so so willing, but I don't want to live through this constant hurt and just not know. If you think there is a chance then I will do anything you ask of me to turn that chance into a reality.
You see, I have disillusioned myself into thinking there could be a chance. That you are doubting what you did. That secretly you are hurting just as much as I am, and when you're on facebook you are looking through my pictures, or reading old emails and comments from me and wondering what happened. Wishing you could ask me back, if only you knew how.
I wish I could make you see how much this is killing me. I feel like my heart is slowly being ripped down the middle. Each day I wait for it to get better, but it just gets slower. Feels more hopeless. I may walk aroung, pretending that I am on the mend, that I am more positive, that I am getting over you. Then each day I end up alone doing my ritual sob. Absolute body shaking, soul destroying sobbing, that I wish never to hear from another human being.
They've told me that they like me. Two of them. They may even have had a chance before. I went out with one tonight. He was trying to kiss me. I knew it. But I just couldn't go through with it. But what if that changes? I want to grab you by the shoulders, shake you, ask you if you realise you could lose me to people like this. Your 'friends'. I'm just not sure you'd care. You might even tell me to go for it.
But this can't be happening, this love can't just be gone. Each night I put my arm out, or turn over just to cuddle you from behind, but I wake when I realise it's not you, it's just a big pile of stupid daft fucking cuddly animals, half of which you bought for me. In the morning, I turn to see your face still sleeping silently, but you're not there. In my car, when my radio isn't on, it's deadly silent. You're not next to me, and you're not even calling me. I drove home from the cinema tonight with him, took him back, then spent the journey to here singing our song and crying into the steering wheel. Real pathetic, huh?
Please answer me. Please help me.
And please let it be the answer I need.
Please.