But she barely tells me crap. I would care if she bothered to tell me. Some days, I wish I could crawl into her head and find out what she was thinking. I get the need to keep secrets, but you can't expect me to care about something you don't tell me about. I made the opening for you to find out my big secret, the skeleton in my closet, but you basically say screw it, you're not my friend anymore, and why would I care, you flipped out at me. Do you miss the reason, right under your nose? Half of these posts are sorrow drowned away by caffeine, morphed and changed into anger. She was my best friend, closer than my own sister, but I'm sick of late nights up trying to forget or crying.
She says she gave me all the room in world, and maybe she did. Maybe I just overlooked it because what she said didn't seem major or I didn't know how to express my care. I have a feeling she won't read this, but even if she does, I'm too honest. I only cared as much as I was allowed, but when I'm told next to nothing, how am I suppose to care?
So, if you're reading this, miss Echo, tell me, what was it I was suppose to care about? I'm sick of feeling ready to claw out my throat because it feels swollen shut. I'm sick of nearly always being ready to cry. I think I figured out my problem with you guys dating. Maybe it was just I needed to talk to him about what he said, but I'm sorry I took out any anger on you. You're an amazing friend, Echo, and I'm sorry I totally ruined it all.
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