“Can you please shut up? Can’t you be happy for once? Just let me make you happy. You keep telling me you hate me but every morning you come around like clockwork and I’m not the only guy you could go to for coffee. I see you as a tiny princess Paloma. Let me treat you like a queen.”

Well there you go.

Dearest Nailuj,
Im approaching a drunken stage. Somewhere between clarity and haziness. that’s where i miss You. It’s someday in June. I’m too lazy to check. It’s between Thursday and Friday.
You will never see this. So it doesn’t matter.
I’ve been trying my hardest not to miss you. Sometimes I’m really good at it. Pretending I don’t care. Sometimes I miss you with every fiber of me being…the same that I love you. Sometimes the aches come in waves and when it becomes too unbearable, only then do I allow myself to cry.
Sometimes when I cry I feel like I’ve been carrying an ocean within me. And my lashes bat and the tears form rivers and streams…bodies of water upon my face, for you.
But that is not beautiful.
I am never pretty when I cry, but neither were you.
I’d never like to see you cry again because of me. Unless it was because I made you cry from laughing so hard at something funny or clever I might’ve said.
But even is this dazed and confused stage I know that will never happen.
I know we’ll never be friends, I don’t want to be your friend. And even if you say you’ll be my friend, it won’t work. I’ll always look at you with feelings, and you won’t ever look at me again with anything but words.
I know I’ll never see you make your dreams come true…let alone follow through with ours.
I’ll never see you grow old.
I’ll never wake up next to you, or fall asleep to you.
I’ll never take a vacation with you.
You’ll never go to France with me and I’ll never be able to show you my favorite places in a country I love.
Maybe someday I’ll get married. You will too.
Maybe I’ll think of you then.
I’ll think of how you told me you’d buy me the Vera Wang wedding dress I’ve wanted forever…for our wedding.
One day I’ll walk down an aisle, but you won’t be waiting for me at the altar.
I won’t be a soccer mom or a soccer wife. It’d remind me too much of you.
You know, I’ll always be your number one fan. Hey, you played me so well.
I don’t mean for this to be the part where I turn aggressive: I won’t let it.
You won’t see me make my dreams come true. Perhaps I was never a part of yours. It’s okay, bonito.
Sabes, you are one of my greatest motivations. I don’t know if its because you’re gone. Maybe that’s it. I was always proud of you. I’m sorry if you weren’t proud of me, or if I wasn’t what you wanted. Sometimes I think that it came down to that… That I was everything you didn’t want and that’s why you weren’t strong enough to love me.
Yes, you were weak. I don’t mean to insult you.
I saw every part of you, the ugly and the most beautiful… And when you were a beast you know what?

I love(d) you anyway.

Goodnight moon.
Goodnight you.