Status: new

Dear Love


Dear Love,

You always claimed that your parents hated you. When we would lay in bed, the soft murmur of the television in the background, you would go on and on about it. I always nodded along, agreeing with everything you said, but I was always jealous.

I know, you’re thinking I’m crazy, of course you are. But I always wanted someone to care about me as much as they cared about you.

But you would just shake your head and say “they seriously hate me” and go back to watching the muted colors on the TV, your eyes following the figures, my eyes studying you.

I don’t think I could ever understand you.