"i've been thinking about you lately."

so pick up the fucking phone.

you weren't there.

my world crumbled over a year ago, and you weren't there, you didn't even fucking call on her anniversary.
strangers reached out to me. people i barely knew reached out to me. people i am fighting with reached out to me.
you were there the entire time she was dying.
you knew her the best.
you didn't even stop to think, did you?

who fucking cares if you've been thinking of me lately?

thinking of me isn't going to do shit for either of us.  
so don't try to satisfy yourself and pretend that you actually give a damn.
i won't give you that satisfaction and pretend it means anything to me.
i have never forgiven you for those words you said to me, and i probably never will.
and the damn thing is, you probably don't even remember, do you?
i'll never forget. 
so please, do what you've done best this last year, 
and don't send me any more of those fucking messages. if you wanna talk, pick up the damn phone. 

and maybe, just maybe, i'll give a damn then too.
 

Without struggle there is no progress.

"i will always be here for you"

now not a promised phone call on one of the most important days to me in a long time?
i can't explain this feeling i have. blood boiling. but so OVER it.
if not for me, for her.

why are spiteful words from a friend during a fight still haunting me two years later?

i cry tonight missing mom, and for some reason echoing in my head aren't the exact words she wrote, but the way i felt when i read them.

knowing full well my mom didn't leave this earth dissapointed in her daughter... but petrified at the same time she's looking down on me, frustrated that i can't get things right.

you have to understand why its hard to be close. 

just used one of those "who do you write like" analyzers...

i write like stephen king. i've never once read one of his novels, but i don't know how i feel about that?