I visited mum's house to get my mail. Not only did she bitch about everything I do - Apparently I don't seem to be in the best mood. I can't imagine why - maybe because you just left again and are miles away and I cant contact you. Just maybe.
She doesn't understand. She can snuggle her boyfriend by the fireplace whenever she pleases (which might I add she publicly displays their affection on numerous occasions, weather just to boast her happiness or not. who cares. I try to shut it out.)
She doesn't understand I don't go home to hug and kiss you when ever I please. No I go home and write letters to you on an Internet blog. Letters that you will most likely never read.
Before leaving she took the liberty to tell me your Mum thinks I'm going to write you a Dear John letter. I don't think your Mum likes me much. I won't ever write a Dear John letter.
How one could think I was capable - I don't know.
I soon left after that without a goodbye. Angry for no real reason.
"Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman was playing when I turned my car on. I remember that song playing on your iPod as I was lying awake one night with my head on your chest, you were sleeping. I admit I cried a bit on the way home. What about, I'm not sure - Just your absence in general I suppose.
P.S This time a week ago I was fortunate enough to be sleeping in your arms.
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