Voices in my head are bringing up the time I sent you that big ass box for Christmas.
I remembered you told me you opened it with you friends.
Voices are saying they all laughed their asses off.
That you girls went around the world and every boy you met had “fun” but I’m the only one that wanted a wife.
Like I’ve said in the e-mails, my heart is a fine sand.
But what does that say about me?
What should I be doing right now?
Forcing myself to just try and move on? All those other boys from Latin America or, wherever in the world they could be, they have wives and families?
It’s not like I even share their culture, and how the fuck was I even supposed to know?
It’s not like I didn’t try!
But I’m repeating myself, every time I come back here to write.
It’s won’t just be hell for me, it’ll be hell for the next person too.
I’ll keep to myself.