Stop It

Do you know I had a dream last night where I was so angry that you left me in the middle of the parking lot that I called you and I don't remember what I said perhaps I remembered when I woke up this morning but not anymore and I was crying and said...I don't remember but I know it was viscious and it hurt you and oooh I was so fucking glad.

I think of you all the time. Even when I read for my classes, I come across something funny or bullshit or derogatory against Irish animals, and I've just barely gotten out of the habit of reaching for my phone to call you to read it to you.

I don't know why you keep calling me. It's expensive for you. I don't... we're not ... anymore. Because of something I can't control. Nor should I, if I could. I know how...uh. But you're not me. You have to find out on your own.