I'm not afraid of leaving you anymore, I'm not afraid

to say goodbye, because we haven't been together, not for

a long time. You're like a friend. No, you are a friend, and it

it was wrong to make it something more. You'll never know me,

and I don't want you to, you're not for me, and you make me so happy

but it's time to let you go, let you make some other girl as joyful as you've

made me for all this time. Five months and I'm giving you up because I

can't see us moving forward. If anything, we're regressing...the more I

talk to you, the more I notice the cracks, the more we chat, the more I hide.

It makes no sense, but you're not there for me, and maybe I don't want you

to be, I hate feeling so dependent, and every time I let my guard down enough

for you to peer over, we wind up hurting. You don't know what it's like to be the

last priority for someone who's your world. You don't know what it's like to need

a hug, some form of comfort, and be afraid to ask for it from someone. You don't

know half of what I'm going through...you think I'm alright. And I want to tell you

the truth so desperately, but I'm not setting myself up for the fall – I'd rather end

it with you. I know how you're going to react, and I'm not letting my disorder be the

reason we become closer – I want our relationship to be strong through the good times,

not just be of convenience when everything in my life falls apart. We're lustful teens,

this isn't love. And our desire will never transform into something more. So I'm

saying goodbye one final time. It's not you, it's not me, it's both of us.