Please, please read this. Please.

I am so sorry. Please, just hear me out.

Please, please know that I still love you so freaking much, and I want more than anything for us to be once more.

And please believe me when I say that walking out of that room was the hardest thing that I have ever had to do in my entire life, and it took every single fibre of my being not to run back to you and hug you, and hold you, and tell you that it'd all be better - that it'd all be ok, and make the hurt vanish.

I probably shouldn't have sent you that text directly after I left saying that I love you, but you probably shouldn't have said, that I'm sorry that you'll miss me.

I still want to turn back time. I wish to God Almighty that I can turn back time and run into your arms and make it all better, and now, I can't get the image of you sitting on the floor - a broken man - out of my head, and it keeps on running through there at a million miles an hour and I want it to stop, oh, please Christ, make it stop!

And no matter how much I tell myself that I wont cry, I can't help but feel the tears flowing faster than I can stop them, thick and fast down my chin, and I want this all to stop, and I just want to talk to you one more time, and I want to make this whole shit all better -

But there's no point in me doing that. Because I've always told other people that it's not really as bad as it seems. That you could always have it worse. And that you do have your whole entire life ahead of you.
And, it's right. I could be a whole lot more fucked. It's not like this is my marriage dissolving in front of me, and I have kids to support. It's not as if I'll never love anyone again...

But right now it feels like I wont ever want anyone else again.

I've fucked up. Big time.

But, what do you expect me to do, how does one react when hours before a party, a phone call is had and the words spoken through the receiver are: "The passion has gone." And you expected me to stay at your party?

But, I am still so very, very, very, very, incredibly sorry. I didn't mean to ruin your night. I am so so sorry. And I really hope that your parents don't think badly of me now.

Brodie Richards, I love you. I love you still. And I really, really don't want this to end... But, I guess shit happens. I just want you to know that this shit's been great.




Fuck. And here I was questioning if I'd really leave New Zealand, or if I'd stay.

Type your name: Madeleine.

Type it with your elbow: m,adeleiner.

Type it with your noes: madeleinew.

Type it with your eyes closed: Madeleing. (why do I always do that?)

If you want me,
then I'm right where I was left.
But don't stop to smell the roses -
People have a habit of fidgeting,
And never stay situated for long.

This fucking sucks. So goddamned freaking much. And the worst part of this all, is that it's all around me, and no matter what I do, I can't seem to escape it...

Life's crap. Then you die.

Death of a person. Death of a relationship. Death of an opertunity. Death of yourself. It's all a fuckinground you.

And you know what? I'm done.

The tree of man was ever silent. Then, twas the Roman. Now, tis I.

I miss you. Miss you so freaking much. And you wanna know what makes this hurt the most? You're right here. You're right here, and you wont even talk to me.

I wonder, sometimes, if I really made the right decision? I could have stayed as I was. I could have stayed at Girls High. If I had, would this have happened? Or, if the situation was reversed... and instead of going to one party, I went to another... I want to know. I want to know if this is right, if this is real, if it'll stay, or go, and when it does, how long do I have? Months? Days? What are you thinking? I need to know what is on your mind. But how do you ask such a question? And, even if I did ask, would you even tell me?

Do I even know you?

My God... do I? I'm not too sure now... I'm starting to doubt everything that I know. Or, rather, have known. A while ago, I suggested that you didn't know me. But, my God, you know me inside and out.

I love you.

Fuck.

Why must I love you?

If you're not here, you dumbarse, how the hell am I supposed to pass this year??