I miss you. I miss who you were. You used to bring me flowers to my house when I was sad, to my football games, and in my locker on my birthday. You used to walk me to my classes and your face would light up when you saw me. I miss laying on your chest trying to match your breathing, you scratching my head while you told me how much you loved me. You are different now. You’re mean and lustful and immature and angry. You were so mean to me. How could you, the one person who loved me the most and knew me best, be so rude. The old you would be so disappointed in how your acting. You think I hate you, but I never could. Even after everything. I still love you. I’m hoping you come back to me one day.