I'm over it, Promise.Do you remember that Valentines present, the one with the ugly stuffed bear and the felt hearts, that I left in your garage because I was too afraid to hand them to you before I left? There's no way that you didn't know they were from me. She would have told you. She probably told you everything; it's what friends are supposed to do right? Tell one friend something, promise that they'll keep your secret, then run to the next one and see what that information can do. You never said anything about it. Not even a friendly thank you. You knew what it meant. You wouldn't, couldn't have ignored it otherwise. It doesn't matter that you hate Valentine's Day, I didn't know that until after anyways, you could have at least told me no. Left it somewhere for me to pick up and throw away. Like I've been learning to do with those pieces I still had for you.
Have for you.
I find them lodged in my heart sometimes. They wake me at night and burrow deep when I see something that I think you'd like. I ca