You’ll never read this sir.

I never forgot you. We both changed. But I never forgot you.

Remember running in the rain? Remember watching that concert? Playing my song you wrote on your guitar? Talking on the phone for six hours? Sharing music in the movie theater?

It was great to talk to you once again. Though it has been a while now. Seeing your name light up on my phone screen for the first time in years roused a funny feeling in my stomach. Do I want you? No. But I do miss you. Or rather. The old you. See you were once my bestfriend. For almost five months. You were my bestfriend. It’s crazy to think about this. We were so young. But what can I say. I am weird. And once someone walks in my life. I never forget them. I have a good memory. It’s a blessing and a curse. I’m sorry you aren’t happy. I wish you were. But it is true when they say “You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness.” I hope you are happy by now. And I hope you have found someone to make you happy. I have. I do not like you. But I once loved you. As much as I knew how to at that age. I hadn’t thought about you in a long time. But when I saw your name on my computer screen, I had to say hello. Don’t think I miss you because you were my first love, because I got over that, and I loved others. I miss you because you were such a close bestfriend and overnight you went out of the picture. I am sorry if I ever did anything wrong. I am sorry for this post. I hope you never read it, but in a way I do. I’m such a creep.

I am cliché in many ways. I love photography, art, and music. Those damn zombie video games distract me more than I’d like to admit. I wish certain people would look my way sometimes. I love calls compared to texts. I smile like a fool when called beautiful. I day dream more than I should. I want to inspire people. Cheesy stuff makes me smile. I love my bestfriend. I have secrets. Don’t we all? Insecure. But I don’t like to admit it. I dance and sing when alone. I get lost in my music. I am me though, and although I am still trying to figure out who the hell that is. Little by little. I am learning not to care about the unimportant things, and love the things that matter. Maybe no one will read this. But I said it. Everyone else is taken all that’s left is to be yourself. I’m glad because I am an original. I am me. It’s who I’ll always be. Until the day I die.