Dear Reader,

It's not fair that I've changed. It's not fair that I no longer recognize the kind of person I am. I was good. I wanted to be good, but I feel like that goodness was pried out of my hands. I think what I find disturbing now is that feeling of uneasiness that one can get. Maybe it is a yearning. I thought I had found something different and I had kicked myself about it for letting it pass me by for so many times. Now I'm unsure of what to feel. I had it and I made that foolish mistake of being too excited to even try to hold my content in, that it got away. God damnit. I let you get away.

No reader. This is someone else.

No reader. I wasn't in love.

No reader. I'm not really hurt.

I think it's just the fact that you know things would've worked out. It was just the matter of time. Oh god, I miss the times when my letters were about other things other than matters of the heart. I'm sorry. I know this is not what you've expected of me. I'm beginning to feel like the only real emotion that I know of is loss. I want to be happy - but it seems like there's always a price to that. For me anyway. I'm being too harsh on myself again, or perhaps not harsh enough.
Well done me. Well done.

Nealy 18. What do I really know about life?

Yours Truly,
Nayt.