Oh, you know, it’s fine. It’s not like I’m suicidal or anything.
Not letting go would be living a lie.
“Love is just the slowest form of suicide. It numbs you inside when he’s gone, then all you have to do is pull the trigger.”
It kills me everyday, to know I killed what meant most to you. I’m sorry I broke you.
I really want to go home, but at the same time I just can’t. Everything is changing so fast and I don’t even know how to feel. I’m afraid of what’s going to happen while I’m gone, but I’m afraid of having to deal with my friends’ drama when I go return home. I know that no one is really going to see this post, so there really is no point to it, but it...