i hid inside my room like a fucking coward (what?
please kill me). the past eighteen months flashed before
me in the last eight long hours.
it was amazing you finally got a rise out of me.
i laughed, i cried (well i tried,
but i laughed again). who the fuck needs a caricature
to be their friend? it's so fucking stupid.
i'm just as scared and insecure as you
(maybe even x2). and i wonder what you really thought
of me. an intimate friend?
a loud-mouth jerk or just a novelty?
this is not an apology, just therapy,
'cause as we all know (and apparently), i don't need anybody.