2004-02-29 - 3:47 p.m.
The thought of you makes me so mad. Really, really, angry. You can’t come down for my birthday because I’d just yell at you. I sent you that text message, and I knew you would not reply, and I can just image you getting angry and turning cold. –I don’t need her anyway, and she’s getting over me, and who does she think she is…You are a fucking bastered.
I’m having a great time, going out, have interesting conversations, I actually am enjoying my life. So why do I miss you, and why do you make me so angry. I’ll tell you why, because we had something really special. That cheesy fucked up line. We well did. And you could have talked to me, and we could have worked through things. Or maybe we couldn’t but you’ve done a number on me. Frozen me out of your life again. You’ve pulled the plug on any fucking understanding that we had going for us. Or you haven’t, but your silence has.
I am a human being, and I expect my friends to be able to deal with that. I get angry, hurt, sad and fucked up about things. Especially you.
