I want to write a letter. But I have a very, very big problem. I don’t know what it’s going to be about. Or who it’s going to be written to, for that matter. There are so many things I could type to everyone but I can’t come up with one idea. Not one. And you know what’s sad? It’s like I’m having a mini-break down trying to think of something. I know if I took the mental block off I could figure it out. But the mental block will not disappear. Do you know how depressing that is?
Like I could write about how much I miss him despite the fact I’m supposed to act like I highly despise him. I could write about I wish that I wasn’t friends with her because she’s moved on to being fake and trying to pick up guys. Or I could write about how much I wish they would work things out and realize that they’re different people and they can be great together if they worked a little harder. I wish I could say these things without questions about my OWN sanity.
It seems like I’m living in a world where no one quite understands what’s going on, but won’t accept, realize, and move on. I feel like I’m the only one who understands that a certain small of tolerance should be used in large doses. It makes you feel better about everything. Not only that, but it makes life easier because no one’s pointing fingers at you saying you’re a hypocrite. Now I know I’m a hypocrite, but at least I’m trying. Some people think they’re above everyone else and that they aren’t hypocrites when it’s so damn obvious!
I just wish things were easier. I wish I could move on. I wish everyone else would move on. I wish I made good decisions the first time and didn’t have to realize it by going about everything the hard way. I wish I could have the experience without the hard work and tears behind it. I miss life when it was as easy as deciding between the pink and purple crayon. (Those two colors happen to be Mo’s favorite colors, for all of you who had no idea)
I wish I was beyond wishing. I think I’m done. Thanks for reading this far. If you did, I might question your intentions. But you know what? I’m too lazy. Plus, how would I know if you read this through all the way? Maybe you’re a stalker or someone trying to find revenge... or better yet: solace. I bet that’s it. If the case is that you are... I’m sorry. And I mean it this time. I’ve probably done you wrong. Realize it was my fault. Not yours. I hope you’ll move on, even if I can’t.
(We Will Become Silhouettes- The Postal Service)
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