I don’t know why I always end up talking to someone who will never see this on here, but maybe that’s the way I wanted it to be. I don’t know why you pop back into my life when I am finally happy. When I feel like I can’t hear all the things you said and visualize all the things you did (good and bad) anymore, you come back with some kind of anecdotal bullshit that reminds me of a time when my life made no sense and you were the only one who understood because you never knew who you were. You still don’t know who you are. At least you’ve admitted to yourself though, I’m proud of you for that. But I’m beginning to wonder why I can’t just be happy.