How do I even begin to explain this?
I spend a large portion of every single fucking day remembering you and what I could have had.
It haunts me.
I ruined something that could have been so much more than it already was. You were the first person I felt completely open and trusting of, and the first person I ever talked to about my life in such a deep and meaningful way. I felt as though I could have been happier with you than anyone else. But I ruined it with my cocky, selfish, asshole attitude that I put on to try and impress people.
Fuck, I hate myself sometimes. Not a day goes by that I don’t remember you and desire you and wish for you and I just can’t fucking stand how much of a fuck-up I am.
