Dear Dylan,
Sometimes I wonder if you're actually here.
Do you see me? Can you hear my movements?...Do you bother to?
Probably not because I'm writing to you now.
It might annoy you, frustrate you and make you just want to jump off a roof or something, but bare with me.
Please. I think of all the things you've done and I don't hate you for it.
I just wonder: Why? The same question might be floating around in your mind now too.
Why am I writing to you? Why only now? Why do I even bother?
Well Dylan, I ask myself these too. I don't know frankly.
I probably just need someone to talk to and I want it to be you.
Sorry if this is such an inconvinence.
You do have a girlfriend. But I wish you didn't.
And I also wish you didn't have friends.
Harsh as it sounds, I mean it. I'm sorry I do.
But you have changed because of them.
Changed so much that I can't even compare the new you with the old you.
And I know that I can't force you to change. And I know you won't anyways.
So all I can do now is ask you to. Please change Dylan. Please.
If you knew what was going on, I think you would consider.
But you don't know me.
You don't know my story.
You don't know my pain.
You don't know my name.
This is partly my fault.
But I know you Dylan.
I do.
And I wish you knew how much I care.
Georgia
I'm speechless now, Gia.
