Dear Jared

I hope you're fucking happy. You dead ass fuck. You convinced me that you're the only person who will ever love me, and it's manifested. No one will bring me the happiness you brought me. Even as fucked up as it was, it was at least real. You never used me or faked anything.

Asking for a love as real as yours is so terrifying, but it's all I want.

Talking about what you did to me never gets easier. Even if it's the abbreviated version ("A Brief History of Jared" I call it) that I squeezed into a 4 minute phone call so I can finally see a trauma therapist. I already was having a rough day. That didn't help. Holding back the tears burned my eyes.

Somedays I'm glad you are dead. That way I can't go back to you.

Other days it's the most heartbreaking. Because I can't go back to you.

You still have me convinced no one will ever love me as much as you did. I still really believe it.

You were the best and worst thing that ever happened to me.

I wish you were still around so we could go to the casino. We never got to spend a night together in a room there.