You make me happy, sometimes.

Seriously, dude, what is your deal?

You never even explained why you were angry with me in the first place, all I knew was that you were. You gave me that fucked up line, "I can't promise that I won't stop talking to you," a few days after you told me that you wanted to be in my life forever - far-fetched in the first place, sure, but it could have lasted more than 48 hours. You think?

I'm tired of you flipping back and forth, and I'm honestly beginning to think that our good days have some pretty fucking stupid underlying factors - where I am, what I'm dong, whether or not you can get a ride home from work, whether or not you think someone else is flirting with me; is this a convenience thing? Comfort? You say you're sincere, that you love me, but whatever. I can't tell anymore.

I'm getting fed up, and I don't expect you to make any changes, so I'm going to have to make one myself. And because I refuse to evolve my life around someone else's ever again, that change is going to have to a be something a little more closely resembling a goodbye.

I hate even thinking that.