Just forget it.
Forget it all.
Forget me and whatever letters I write.
Forget knowing me.
Forget how I spend my days writing when you don’t appreciate me enough.
Forget how I wait for months to know if you’re alive, but that doesn’t matter to you.
You care and don’t care about you.
You think of yourself. Only the pain you feel.
Forget the pain you caused others as you usually do, until it’s too late to forget.
Until the memories rush back into your head.
Beating you up and crushing your imperfect, shattered soul.
You don’t know and never will understand what it’s like to love, to want, to write to that person you loved the most and end up with nothing after all the years.
Just forget it all.