Right now, I don’t know how I’m feeling. It’s cold, I’m cold. I’m lonely, Imogen Heap is my only company right now. I haven’t felt this way in months. 

It started because I’m stupid. Probably more to that, a lot more. I miss a lot of people, things. I miss Alesia, I miss the old days. I wish I held onto people better.

Alesia, why did you have to choose drugs and alcohol why. Why couldn’t I stop you, why couldn’t I care enough to do ANYTHING. I miss you, the old you. I miss the endless weekends we spent lazing around; the countless anime and manga we consumed, the deep talks, how you always hinted you wanted to end it all but your friends were your saving grace. I was included in that once. I might still be. A year ago we were perfect, almost perfect. When you moved to your neighborhood, things flew downhill. It started with just a shot of vodka or two every few weekends. A sleepover at a random friend’s house with promise of liquid fire to ease your pains. It started to meld into weeks, school weeks, you were doing this on school nights for christ sake. You knew how I hated it, I was vocal about my disapproval. 

In retrospect I probably hounded you more as a mother than your best friend. Maybe I drove us apart. I probably did. It doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve moved onto better things, bigger thrills; you’ve been arrested for being legally drunk, you’ve hit rock bottom in my opinion of you. I’m disappointed, I’m so fucking disappointed it hurts, it aches, it makes me miss the old you. You never needed that stuff, you never should have tempted it. Shelby, fuck her. Fuck what she’s influenced over you. I hate her and if I could throw her out I would in a single beat. I’m not jealous of the friendship, I’m just so angry about her.

If I throw her out, I throw you out too. I have to make decisions. I’ve contemplated for weeks, months, a long while. I still don’t have an answer. I want the old you to come back. Please. Please. Please 

I hate how things turned out.