I hate you so much right now. I hate the fact that you can disappear for as long as you please without even considering my feelings. Your birthday passed and I hope you didn’t expect me to tell you it because I didn’t; I wanted two days after. I still hate you. But I don’t expect you to give two minutes of your time to explain, besides, why waste your time trying to explain what you find to be none of my business anyway; I’m still waiting on an explanation. I hate caring for you and if I had the power to stop, I would because I have other people to love and to be loved by.
Dammit, I just want to know how you are.