we're at lunch and it's all i can do to keep up with you. you're always running around acting like an idiot and it's hilarious and i love to be with you for the little time that i can have with you. you are the only person i want to be with during lunch because i could care less about anyone else if i have you to be with. it's sol week and your computer screen is crushed. you take it to the help desk to turn it in and of coarse they can't get it back to you right away. the bell rang and i want to bring you your bookbag and i picked it up, but it was open. i went to close it and the zipper got stuck on the goddamn fabric on the trim. you are furious and you walk to class without me. all i was trying to do is bring you your fucking bookbag and i can't even do that right. i fuck up every gaddamn time i try to do something for you. all i ever want to do is please you and it never seems like it's good enough. i know you have an anger problem and i know having to fix your bookbag is a pain in the ass and could have been avoided, but you could have at least acknowledged my trying to help you out; even though i made things more stressful for you. maybe i'm just being a drama queen, but it really kills me when you belittle me with your level of intimidation. you have no idea how much i've been scolded in the past for not being able to do things right the first time, and right now i'm so afraid to disappoint anyone, especially you. you and your acceptance and acknowledgement of me means the world to me. i hate it when you walk with shan and not me, even though she's your girlfriend. i hate it when you sit with your other friends and leave me to wonder around the commons aimlessly. i hate it that you treat me differently at school than you do at home. and most of all, i can't fucking stand it when you talk about how beautiful shan and this other girl is while i'm sitting right there beside you listening to your every word and all the while thinking that i wish that you could say the same for me. i wonder what you say about me to your other friends when the moment arises. i wonder if you scold me behind my back and tell everyone else what it is that i do that drives you up a wall. i wonder if you really don't like me as much as you put off that you do. maybe it's just a fucking act, and you really just don't have the heart to break it to me that you really can't stand me anymore and would secretly love to kick me to the curb. is that the case? well that's how your making it seem. do you remember that note that you wrote and gave to me even though you didn't write it for me? that note that exclaimed "help me please", in which you proceeded to decribe your emotions about your life at the moment? do you remember in that note where you wrote about me and you said that you were afraid that somewhere down the line that you were going to fuck me over somehow? "i really don't want to, but i think it will happen eventually." remember that? well, you must be psychic, because it sure as hell is coming true. i can't sleep, i can't eat, i can't concentrate, i can't even go one whole day without thinking about you at least once, and at first it was how you make my life better, and now it's how i can't believe that i can't get over you. i can't believe that i let you do this to me and i accept it and take it as something that i am doing wrong. you really fucking kill me, Byron. and i don't know what to do with anything anymore. i'm lost. thank you very much.