12.23.17

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I love that we don’t know how to communicate thoughts and feelings.
Instead we just write about them and pretend the other doesn’t see.

“Do you regret it?”
I regret all of them.
If I could bleach my brain of the memories or wipe them from three years of painful existence, I would. 
Every single one of them.
I can’t believe I’m saying that, but I would.

I am so angry.
Maybe I’ll always be.
Why am I so angry?
I know why, but it’s too long to write.
We wouldn’t talk about it anyway.

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