All these misunderstandings, everything. It's just so painful and terrible and I honestly don't know what drove it.

But I am really sorry about everything, and I just can't make it better. 

So I'm leaving it at this.

And yes, I did care about you. It was due to the guilt, but also because I genuinely enjoyed your company. You made me laugh so much. You made me smile. You WERE my sunshine.

And then, you know, misunderstandings.

It's just so complicated and everything and no, nothing can be done.

And funnily enough, I'm really screwed for midyears. All these distractions.

Good luck for yours.

And okay, we can do birthdays. Just because we're civilized and shit. ;) 

Take care. 

Because when you remove all this anger, misunderstanding, and mutual accusations, there was friendship.

I may have patronized you and everything, but yes, you were my friend. You really were.

I know I shouldn't be writing this email because it may give you (false) hope and negate all that I've said, but I have to.

I am sorry. 

And please don't make me regret this email by writing to me anymore. Please. Because I really need a long, long, long break from all of this and the more we explain and justify, the worse it gets.

Let's just leave it here, with something sweet, okay? 

Don't reply. Don't write. 

Except on birthdays. Because we're civilized and shit. ;) 

May I request a haiku? 

-Jess. 

*****************

Trust her to ask for something difficult. 

And. just to rub my lack of poetry writing in my face: 

I wish I could say that this was my best birthday present. But nah. I don't see the value in badly written poetry. 

5

7

5 

my dear. 

That letter? 

That's why I loved her all along. Now I have to move on. 

Just another starstruck (see above for evidence*) wanderer trying to find his way in this horribly confusing and sometimes messed up world.

This space as you might have realised is for my own venting. It's where I talk, to myself. To the universe. It's where I don't lie. Much. Chances are you won't get more truth out of me than these few billion pages of angst.

My life isn't that bad. Sometimes. The good parts just usually end up being the blank dates in between the posts you see. So yes, just to practice my math and to cheer myself up a little, the number of posts is inversely proportional to my mental wellbeing. Yes that counts as math with me.

And despite the wry smile on my face and the grin I can imagine on yours, I'm still rather sombre.

I promise you I'm sunny somedays. Stick around. You never know what you may learn.

*hint may or may not be in big black font at the top of the page.