I miss you. I miss when we were friends. Remember when I thought you were the funniest, sweetest, most intelligent and interesting person in the world? I sort of still do. But I convinced myself that I didn’t. Mainly because everyone loves you (even though you think they don’t), and I didn’t want to be like everyone else. But I really do think you are wonderful. You don’t though. You think you’re crap. And that kills me. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I wish you could see how lovely and fabulous and perfectly you you are.
You know what bothers me most? You’re with the wrong person. You know you’re with the wrong person but you’re not doing anything about it. You could change your situation but you won’t. I really do believe that some people are attached to their sadness and their vices and the things that make them unhappy. You’re with this person out of habit, familiarity. But you’re wasting yourself and you know it. You could be with someone who loves you. You are a lovable person and I hope you know that. You are lovely and lovable and loved.
I know that it’s easy for me to say this from the peripheries, not knowing you as much as I like to think I do, but we’re perfect for each other. I get you. And you get me. But we don’t even talk anymore.