"I miss you so much right now. And it’s killing me. I miss our conversations. I miss how I felt like I could tell you anything. I miss talking to you until 2 or 3 in the morning. Hoping that you fell asleep early that night. I just miss you. I miss the friend I thought I had. I don’t know why I’m typing this out. I’m not going to send it. I’m just going to erase it all. I guess I hope this is therapeutic. But it will probably make things worse. Because I want to tell you. But I know I shouldn’t. I really, really shouldn’t. But I never had much self control when it came to you. But I’m fighting myself. Because I don’t want to look pathetic. Or annoy you. Things ended on a semi good note. And I can’t screw that up. I can’t. God. I want to dislike you so much. But I can’t. I just can’t. You got to me. And there’s nothing I can do about it. I wish I had the nerve to send this. But I don’t. I’m a coward. How I wonder what would have happened if I had kissed you that night. I wish I had. But if I had this would probably be a lot worse than it is. So maybe it’s a good thing I’m such a coward. I still have your socks btw. If you ever want them. Look. I’m talking like you’re actually going to read it. God. I should have probably put this on paper. But. I guess I thought I might send it. I was going to send you an anon. But thought otherwise because you’d know it was me. And I don’t know if I would like the response. And I wish you would see me typing and wonder what I was going to say. I miss you more than I like to admit. That’s probably really pathetic. But I don’t care anymore. I liked the way you expressed yourself. And I liked that we could talk about almost anything. That song Problem reminds me of you because you sang it in my car that night. I miss the friendship we could have had. I miss you. But you miss someone else, and that’s what hurts the most."