Dear B,

I realize that everything I write, I write in letter form. I need to feel like somebody is listening, because otherwise these words turn into wind. Dear B, I'm sorry I'm doing this to you but I feel like it's all I can give you... All I can give you is this void, an empty space that may kill you, but just as likely may help you live.
We're not all beautiful, sure as hell not on the outside. That's a fishism, a meaningless sentence created in a conspiracy. Dear B, one day I'll stop and I hope you'll say thank you. Dear B, I'm sorry I became you.