I'm finding some things here and there that I tried to make, pictures I printed, notes that were written.

A song by Gloria Lee is on my desk, as well as "I miss you" by Incubus, the song that would bring me comfort where time we were apart. Now it has a completely different meaning to me.

I'm wallowing, and I hate myself for it. I hate my irrationality, and how I didn't have a clear mind when I screamed at you. So many things-- what I should have said, what I should have done. I should've answered your call when you tried to call me back. Then again, you only called once and didn't call again. But then I would remember what you said, and then I'm taken aback. No.

The last thing I texted you was a favor. A big one on your part. You have something to carry now, as well as I. What I gave is yours to keep. "We won't see each other again." I know I'm harsh... but I can't see him again. I don't know when I will be ready, or how will it take me to recover. I kept saying it would be a speedy recovery, but look at me. I'm crying and I hate the fact that I am crying over him again. Again. I've been doing this for too long.