Are you ever so profoundly inspired by your younger self and then wonder where all of that went to?
Maybe you don’t get it. Maybe you don’t understand how every time you joke with me about insulting my intelligence, or my looks, or my future, or my education, I literally feel like shit because it comes from you. You don’t understand the level of weight I put on what you say sometimes. I won’t apologize for my existence, though I feel like it’s what you would rather have. Get over whatever the fuck it is you have against me, because God only knows that I’ve forgiven you for all of the shitty things you’ve ever done to me. I regret putting myself in this close of proximity to you again, and for letting myself fall into old habits. If I ruin the trust between us, you ruin all hope of is ever being close friends.