My Letters to Country


I made it through the party Kev. I smiled and laughed and made small talk and no one suspected that I was a little dead inside. Good right? I’m getting ready to go to bed now, only one pill tonight to help me not dream I think. But I just wanted to say that I’m afraid tomorrow is going to be really hard. You were supposed to come up for the day remember? I keep thinking maybe you’ll call. And deep down the sad, broken part of me wishes you would still come…I’m sorry if that’s selfish, but I can’t keep myself from wishing it would happen. I don’t even know if you remember my number, let alone my address. But I keep thinking about getting a call from you telling me that she’s out of town and you’re coming up, even if it’s just for an hour, even it it’s just to say goodbye. At least it might be closure. I doubt you’ll come though and I doubt you’ll even call. How could you say “good-bye for now, I’ll talk to you soon<” if you didn’t mean it? Don’t you know how much it hurts me, waiting for “soon” to happen. How long is soon Kevin? How long do I have to wait? Days? Months? Years… How is that fair? You left me here, hanging on waiting to hear from you, totally cut off and you’re presumably just going about your normal daily life. I’m so fucking scared that tomorrow is just going to tail spin me right back to where I was, and I did so good today… I smiled and pretended everything was normal. I wish I could skip tomorrow all together, sleep through all of it or fast forward so I don’t have to deal with all the¬†disappointment. Please…if you loved me at all…call me at least. I need help getting over you and I don’t know what else to do. I love you Kevin. Call me. Please…


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