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Dear someone who will never read this,
Oh Vee!

(It's funny, Vee... I called you that in journal entries before I found out about "Zee" which I still think is a lie.)

~I really think sometimes that you never loved me. No, that's a lie- I just think you fell out of love with me a lot earlier than you say you did. Years, even. I dispise the fact that you still give me butterflies. I want to puke them all out. I want them to be neon and I want my fucking bile to eat away at their wings until there is no color left.

I want to be rid of this. It's a burden now. No joy comes from it. Not the way it is. Not unless things change.

I'm crying as I write this. I'm at work. I hate it. I hate everything here. New Jersey is a disgusting place. All my friends have fucked with me in some way that should be unforgiveable. I feel as though New Jersey has a sign above it that says "We welcome your dysfunctions here." I refuse to abide.

You think I was the only one that shit on you? I loved you unconditionally. Yes, yes. I fucked up, but I still gave you my goddamned heart and soul and now i'm resentful. I asked for so little in return. I asked for a goodnight kiss. An occasional I love you. I think you use the term "I have problems with affection" as a crutch. You could've just said "I'm disinterested" and I would've delt with it better. You didn't have problems when we first started dating. You should've broken up with me multiple times. MULTIPLE. You tell me I could've left. Well, my heartstrings were tangled in this facade of interest. I HAD HOPE IN YOU AND OUR RELATIONSHIP.

Well, it ends like this? A final kiss from when you were a drunken mess and you're out of my life.

A toast to "bigger and better things" I suppose. For you. Still all for you... and i'm still here wasting away in my shell with a bit of resentment and willingness to (still) change... 'the only evidence of a life that was so sweet.'