I wish I didn't feel like I need to explain myself to you every time I see, think, hear of or from you. You don't make me feel this way, I make myself feel this way. I guess I just feel like you still don't understand how I feel, which you probably don't. I just hope that one day you will understand, you know.

Why are people so afraid of human nature? Or to just accept it? And why is it so difficult to do so? Does it even exist? It seems like nowadays, human nature is almost an oxymoron like jumbo shrimp or something.

I'm sorry I let myself get so comfortable with you. I'm sorry I forgot about boundaries, of what I could and couldn't tell you, and what I could or couldn't do. I'm sorry that I thought I could tell you anything I've ever felt in my life. I'm sorry that I've only ever been more of a sinner than a saint. I'm sorry that I took advantage of you. I'm sorry that I ever believed you would always be there for me and that you would never leave my side. I'm sorry that I never thought that things would get this way.

Of late I've found that my favorite parts of the day is not when I get out of class, or when I'm with my friends, but when I'm in the shower or going to the bathroom or even just sleeping, or when my roommate falls asleep. My favorite parts of the day are the parts where I can be by myself.

Don't get me wrong, you know. I'm not miserable here. I'm a little homesick, but you know, who wouldn't with a mom like mine always checking up on me and telling me that she misses me through my dog, ie. the only way to get me to listen. I don't know. I suppose I am homesick. Perhaps extremely. But 95% of the time, I'm content. I'm okay, better than okay. I'm good. I'm not that happy I was when Pablo and I were together, but I don't think I'll ever be that happy again until I find somebody else. It's just trying to convince myself that now I don't need it, or can't have it. I'm so busy already and it's only the second week of school. My freedom has only just begun. It's just hard craving that happiness, that thing you once have, and no one around to help you feel or be satisfied. It's true when they say that love is like a drug. Love is a drug. It's addicting. It makes you not think or make decisions properly. It feels so good, but its probably so bad for you, but you don't even care because it makes everything, all the pain, misery, problems, it makes them all go away. Yes, love is a drug. Love is my heroin. And you were the syringe.