Pardon me for saying so, but you look more pitiful than I had ever imagined, despite perfect fashion and your photographs depict you differently. I always thought you would be some sort of match for me. So let's decide who can survive stomping feet and racing beats of hearts that don't ever slow. Then I'll write letters on white paper expressing my deep dissapointment. Dripping where I stand from my watery hands, hoping to get past the open bedroom door, where her clothes on the floor remind me of our conversation, the feeling of slight hesitation to turn out the light. Fourteen days now since we started to complicate the situation. I'm not hiding I'm just buying some time for us to find the back door. we will come out when it's safe for us. There's nothing left to say to excuse the way that I've behaved. I still feel him gripping like a stain to fabric, torn at every seam, then thrown away. (Don't believe me when I say it's over. By the time you're gone it's all uncovered). (One without regret. I will not forget. Kill me). Why should I take all the blame for my mistakes? You were there with every promise made to break. When did you become the one without regret? Kill me. Burn me down. I swear I won't forget.
Got a cell phone? 