#freddiesjournal

I made a picture for you! It is on my tumblr. I've been having fun drawing a lot of walrus pictures lately in my notebook. This one is for you!

[12:03:45 PM] Phill Q.: brother says hi -sort of speaking to him now-

freddie: -sets down mug- -sits on Rylee again-

asklucypence replied to your post: Nothing

it did. and i have nutella, and we are both naked. me gusta

I want to owl you, Rylee. I've sent you numerous letters before but I get no reply. I bet you burnt them. Or kept them. Either way, I'm glad you even saw them at all. There's this boy-- Oliver. He's really cute and sweet. He's really refreshing to have around and he makes a perfect distraction of when I'm about to tear up. It's hard to try and feel loved again when I'm thinking about you. I guess that just shows I'm selfish. I've always been selfish. I get jealous over people who I used to love. I get jealous that you never talk to me anymore, but you talk to others. I hear that you rarely talk nowadays. God, the things I would do to hear your voice again. .. Fuck, I think I'm shaking. My visions blurry and I'm all shivering. I think those are tears in my eyes. I'm not one hundred percent sure, honestly. If my handwriting goes all bad it's because I'm shaking. My chest aches whenever I remember how your lips shaped mine perfectly. And how the spaces between your fingers fit mine in like the finishing puzzle piece in a puzzle. Perfect. It really hurts, you know. You thinking that I don't love you. You thinking that you're not a good person. It makes me feel like I've failed completely. I failed to make you happy. I failed to hold onto you. I felt myself grow attached and I could feel myself pushing you away, when all I wanted was you to hold me close. Sometimes I go to our old spot in the grass, where you told me you were in love with me. I stare at the stars and have this same pang in my chest as I look over to the empty space next to me. I picture you next to me, smiling to me. Your fingers laced perfectly in mine. I'm drowned in happiness and love that I can no longer care about tomorrow. But then I realize those beautiful eyes of yours aren't actually there. Or your fingers. Or your touch. I sometimes accidentally grab at the empty space, trying to convince myself that it wasn't some kind of hallucination. I think I'm still in love with you, but I don't know. Every time I try to contact you, I feel so unwanted. I feel as though I ripped you apart. I bet I did. And I doubt you'd ever take me back. I'm so disgusting. I'm so repulsive. I don't even deserve to live, Rylee. I'm such a sick, selfish bastard that can never make up his fucking mind. I had happiness and I blew it. I screwed someone that I no longer loved, I still feel jealous over someone I cheated on. Why can't you see that I'm such an ungrateful asshole? Why can't you just realize I'm not as perfect as you think I am?! Why can't anyone see? Why don't I get the insults I deserve? Why didn't I just say yes to marrying you? Growing old with you? Raising a family with you? Where would we be now if I said yes? Where would we be? I'd probably not be crying, that's for sure. 

How many pets does Freddie own?