I feel like nothing I knew as real is real anymore. Nothing is sacred, everything is disposable. People use a bullshit excuse for everything and if you say it enough times you just might believe it is true.
I wonder how you can spend that much energy writing out the imaginary way that things happened and not consider how much of it is pretend. And I'm supposed to take you serouisly and believe that you're sincere... Well I'm sorry, but that's not for me. On second thought, I'm not sorry because I'm guilty of nothing here but misjudgment.
So in a nutshell, fuck you for breaking my heart, Charlie - but I mean it with love. You figure it out.