• Maybe if I sang you a song or wrote you a note you would take me back. Maybe? I made a mistake, honestly, this is all my fault and I can't be happy living with this around my neck. I told you I'd send you a letter and I should've had it in the mail by now but I haven't even started. Every time I try I end up ripping pages out of my notebook and crying. And I don't cry so easily, you know that. Only, only when? When my grandma died, I think. Maybe a few other times, but you know what I mean. What I'm trying to say here is that I'm going to write this fucking letter tonight, and it's going to explain everything. It's going to be everything that went unsaid between us, and everything that was said. It's going to be every hug and every phone call. Every time I saw you, and every measured moment of the last few hours I ever saw you. I remember that night at the Ike Box, holding hands and meeting that boy and crawling through windows. What was the band again? I don't even care anymore. All I know is that September 29th, 2007 was the last day I saw you, and I don't want it to be the last day ever. We had something, we were close. I trusted you and knew you in ways I never have before or since, and I probably won't ever again. Unless somehow you turn over your stubborn ways for maybe just a few seconds and forgive me. Anyways, wait for my letter, it'll come, I promise. I just know that this is my last chance, and I really want to make sure it's perfect. I loved you, I still do. I can't say how sorry I am in words, but I'll try.

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