Today, I just want to cry. I want to forget about my life and crawl under the covers and not come out. That would be easy for you. I wouldn't be able to protest your not wanting to see me again. Then it would be you that didn't have a choice. I wanted to call you, but your number is unlisted. I didn't know you could do that on such short notice. I bet my number is sitting in your trash can, next to the apple cores and paper towels, tiny on the crumpled envelope I wrote it on. Could I have written down the wrong number? Or could your mom have washed the pants you were wearing on Wed. night? I wonder why I do these things to myself. I just want you to know that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I put you in this position. I'm sorry that I misread you. I'm just sorry.Birth sign: Not entered
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