I don't know why I can't write anything today. I am so ******* empty but my mind keeps slipping back to you, and I hate myself with a fervor unmatched by any passion I've felt before and that is terrifying. You aren't allowed to leave without saying you'll come back, you aren't allowed to love her without killing your love for me first. Why do you do this to me? Why do I do this to myself? Honestly, you're innocent but I need somewhere to place the guilt other than myself because my arms are full and I cannot carry anymore. I haven't seen you in weeks. We used to talk, you used to love me, now do you even ******* care? Do you ever think of me anymore? Because I think about you all the time. You are the reason I've been hungover the past two days, you are the reason my friends are worried about me, you are the reason I can't turn in any of the poems I write to my English teacher. I do not love you like you want me to, at least I don't think I do, but I do love you, oh god I do, but what the hell does that even mean? All I know is today I felt like crying because of all the things you've said to me and the only thing I knew would make it better would be if you said my name. You didn't.