I wish I had written in my journal over the summer.
I wish I had written about you.
But that would probably make things worse for me right now.
Still.
It's hard to summarize.
It's hard to get over my current spite.
Gawd.
What a horrid couple nights.
I'm such a girl.
Fuck.
I don't even know why I'm crying anymore.
Its for me now, ya know.
It's okay; I don't even know.
Was I wrong?
How could I be so wrong.
I guess I just don't cope well with change.
That's not a new notion.
I've done this. Been there.
It sucked then too.
Why is it never my choice?
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