I’ve ripped every heart-broken, tear-drenched letter I’ve ever written to you, Bennett.
Pain is all I feel, sick to my stomach.Let’s make a deal?
We can talk it out,hash out all feelings,figure out what this is about.
I’m tired of false hope,holding on to my fading memories,when I know the answer will be “nope.”
Something I wrote a long time ago, about to be ripped up.