Go Big Or Go The Fuck Home

What the fuck. What happened? Remember that poem you wrote me? That apology? Was all that lies? but do you believe me when I tell you how much to me, you’re worth? I’d give up a lot of things, to prove to you how I feel. Drugs, money, anything, just to show you I’m real. Remember? I thought I meant something to you. And I hate myself for believing you and what you wrote that day. You used to care, you used to give a shit.
I’d never hurt you or do anything that would normally upset you. That doesn’t take away any form of happiness from my life- refraining from doing whatever. I’d be happy. But I’m still sitting here all thrown off and sad because I feel like shit, I feel used and lied to and unimportant since the things you said to me are so far from what you wrote that day. Are you the one scared of getting hurt first? Because I’ve been hurt before too, if you don’t recall. I promised you I wouldn’t do what your ex’s did to you. You know me better than that.
So I don’t know what happened in those few weeks or what I did wrong to deserve this. And I don’t know what stupid shits going through you head lately, but you weren’t like this just a few weeks ago. When you wrote that poem. Remember? Part of me hopes you fucking read this and everything will be fixed, and another part of me doesn’t want you to even bother. I can’t change you if this the new you. I guess this stupid thing I’m writing is a sad attempt at feeling better, or telling you how I feel. I don’t fucking know. I’m just sorry we didn’t work out. I really wanted us to.