A response. That was my crime. My trial was a collection of events of an up and down proportion, highs and lows, laughter and tears. My sentence, a promise of a slow agonizing death. And the executioner wastes no time.
What have I done?...It started with an innocent hello...then, I made promises I couldn't keep...and had wants that I couldn't live up to...then it became a snowball effect...repeating over...and over again...this was not how it was suppose to go...I've been injected. I had this vision, this plan, this perfection in mind...and nothing went right. I feel it in my veins. Im not sure that our outcome is necessarily the wrong outcome...but its not what I wanted. When you love something, sometimes you have to let it go...that's what happened here. Its a cold slow death. I said things I didn't mean, but things I needed to say to make you wanna walk away...you won't understand...but please...don't think for one moment that my confessions of love were only words. I make my last apologies. Never seeing you again, never being near you, never talking to you...you hating me...this is death....