14 September 2009

Letter #2

Dear Divemaster,

It now has been 17days. 17days of not hearing from you. I'm wondering how you are? I still miss you terribly. Every single fucken morning, I wake up with your image in my head. I try. I try very hard to shake you away, but you are always adamant to stay. And everytime, I see the same visual - the image of you lying on your bed in that cute santa claus boxers, beady-eyes, watching the repeat of Bruce Almighty for the 53rd time.

shit! shit! shit!!! WHY CANT I JUS FUCKIN GET YOU OUT OF MY MIND?

I'm trying so hard. So damn bloody hard. I tried hunger. Cigarettes. More hunger. More cigarettes. Coffee. Plenty plenty of coffee. Not sleeping. Cut my hair. Colored it till its shit brown. No...no... nothing seems to work.

I still see you every morning. I still stupidly hope with every call/sms, it's from you. I still wish none of this would happened. I lied to everyone. Everyone thinks I should be okay by now. I lied. I'm a bloody loser.

I hope you're happy with whoever low life cheap whore you have chosen to pursue. I saw her picture. No doubt she is prettier than me, but she is old. Fucking old. Everything is sagging! Why are you so shallow? No... no... no.... I hope I'm just assuming. You stopped loving me. Period. And not because of some stupid cheap whore? Right, Divemaster?