You slap me. You scream. I say you're insane. I escape upstairs. I never pretended to be grown up. Suddenly you're in my face with all these assumptions. I think I'm so cool. I think I'm so smart. But really, I am nothing but a disgusting teenager. You're yelling in my ear and my hands are shaking. I don't want you to see me cry. You cry, you're trying to make me feel bad. I don't cry because I don't want you to know that it's working. All I hear is your voice eight octaves higher than it should. It fills my ears and grates my throat. So I drown you out with no alarms and no surprises and suddenly he's killing himself for recognition and killing himself to never ever stop. I ignore you. You get tired. You go downstairs. I'm alone and he's telling me to suck my teenage thumb.

I don't know if you're sure. I don't care, I am. Sure, that is. Certain that we could make this work. You drink brandy and wear sweaters, I drink rum and coke and wear sweatpants and tube socks. You listen to the Shins and I admitted that I have a small crush on Joe Jonas. I like to dance and make sundaes. Sundaes with everything on them. You like sundaes with everything on them. You just sit there and I have no clue what you're thinking. Do you think I'm shallow? That I'm immature? I don't care. I live in my head, so I can just make you think that I'm pretty and witty. Rum and coke. Rum and coke. Goofy sweaters. Tumblers with half an inch of brandy. Music. And gingers do have souls! Have a good night.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't answer you right away and I'm sorry you thought I was ignoring or wasn't answering you on purpose. I know it's my fault that I didn't answer right away but that doesn't mean I didn't acknowledge you. You know me, you know how I am. I wasn't in a place to listen to what you sent me when I received the message and then I forgot. I'm sorry for that. But that's no reason to ignore me now. I would tell you to grow up but I wouldn't to offend you or anything. And now you've gotten me frustrated and I just want to cry because I don't want to fight with you. We've fought enough to last us a life time. I love you, I want you to know that. I also want to know that I would never intentionally hurt and that  I'm trying to not unintentionally hurt you either. But friendship is not a one way street. You have to give as much as you get because one day someone might realize that you aren't giving whatever you have to give and the cons will outweigh the pros and trying to keep up with you will become just to goddamn tiring. I don't want that for you. I love you so much, like a sister. I want your life to be full of love and friendship and happiness, but you need to truly open and offer yourself up, or else you won't ever be able to. And I can't do that for you. You can convince yourself that you are so mature and wise but in the end, you are just a teenager, like me, and despite all you seem to know there are something's that you just can't possibly understand at sixteen. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I love you to pieces but I think I'm realizing that that doesn't necessarily translate to you loving me that way.

 I wish I could tell you that I wasn’t thinking (I was). I wish I could say that it’s over and done with, that it will never happen again (because you and I both know it will). And I wish that you didn’t have to hurt because of what I did (because if I could, I’d take all the pain away, even if it meant that I’d suffer). But I do not wish to regret (I never will, hopefully). I do not wish to take it back (because, as mean as I may sound, I am whole now). I do not wish that you never walked into my life (even though you may be wishing that, I am too much of a selfish person to wish that). And I know that I’m confusing the fuck out of you right now (but I am so confused). I am so so sorry (no words can express the sentiment). And I know you may never want to speak to me again (I wouldn’t speak to myself). But, when push comes to shove, I hope that you can forgive me (then maybe I can begin to forgive myself).