And my mind is plagued with all of the little things that I would have shared with you, had it still been appropriate. Had we still talked.
Real talk, not this empty chatter, reduced to pleasantries.
Meaningless pleasantries laced with underlying attempts at figuring out how you're really doing. It's reaching out in the dark, really, for I cannot conceive...
No, I want the real talk back.
You know, nobody since has been right.
And I keep realizing that they aren't you.
And I hurt.
But I'm glad to see you happy.
I wish I could just be more real, no more of this fake girl who doesn't know how she feels about everything anymore.
(But it was so much better when we were best friends)"
~from orange_sky's LiveJournal