Dear Babe

Dear Babe,

Yet again I find myself realising just how much I miss you. The sick thing is that I know that you’ve changed and the old you – the one that I used to absolutely adore – is no more. It’s Christmas day, and I’m sat here wondering if you’re sat somewhere wondering the exact same thing; if you are, I am. Six months can’t mend six years.

I really didn’t mean to act so cold last night: I was confused. I’d smoked a bowl so when you pulled over, I was as high as a f**king space rocket. I hope you understand that I do have reason to be cautious with you; it’s not that I have anything against you, it’s that I just don’t know you nowadays. And don’t hate me for not being interested any more, I simply lack the stamina to keep chasing. Maybe I should of lied. I would never intend to hurt you. You know that, right?

I’m happy now. Please don’t ruin this for me. She’s nice… you’d hate her.

Yours faithfully,

Jay.
xxx

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