Dear Sarah

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6. I hope it is not my dad who picks me up today

I found this song from one of the Guitar Hero games that I have played for many years. It's one that I just love to listen to and get hyped up. Guess it doesn't really fit with this depressing story, but that's alright.

"You Give Love a Bad Name" by Bon Jovi

 

Dear Sarah,

I guess I'm just stuck on the subject of family, but how could I not be when they are all that surrounds my life? I'm not going in to anything deep this time around, seeing as I'm a little drained from the last emotional bits of writing. I can't drive oh my god I wish I could. Although, there is a question of whether or not I would ever return after the subtle start of the car. I have to wait until August, unfortunately. For now the world will be my chauffer and the road will leave my dry as I sit here idly by. Gross. I hate rhyming, but I love words. I hate rhyming. Repetition is an interesting aspect, though. I find it to be powerful sometimes, other times not. My dad has taken me driving a few times, yeah. Some went great, others I grew too frustrated. Not with driving, no. Not with driving (I just picture shaking my head and looking longingly off into the distance when saying that haha).  

Staying on the subject of dads, that brings me up to my next point. You were faced with the fact that I would be leaving to a new school. At this time, we were friends, and this was hard on me and I would suspect not easy for you either. Especially with the other one leaving as well. Of course, I only had to go and make it harder, didn't I? Things didn't have to be so bad. There were chances for me to fix things, but I refused. Regrets are all I have. I pressured you to come with me, only because I was scared of braving the New World alone. I didn't even think of how that would effect you. Your dad was already trying to convince you the same. This comes back to the issue that we never really talked about those sort of things. Feelings and such. We were both immature, in a way. It seemed most of what we talked about were some stupid crushes. Seriously why was I so hung up on guys that I've never spoken to? Now I think of none, but only others. Still, I'm sorry for putting that pressure on you. For some reason I thought I could convince you, and I know I couldn't. I'm sorry for putting you in that position, as I didn't even want to be in that situation. I was terrified, and there I was taking you down with me.

You'll find me apologizing a lot in this. Of course, only if this continues. The chapters are getting shorter, as I'm running out of things to say (for a lack of a better phrase). Really, I'm having trouble collecting my thoughts. I just start typing and become reminded of other things as I go on. It's a rather reckless way to write, but so far it is proving to work well. These freshman won't stop talking so loud. I'm losing focus and am getting (I hate the word get and all of its forms) enthralled in their stories. Still, freshman never lie. My family thinks me crazy. I recall the weirdest of memories. The color blue could make me think of the last time I had pizza. It seems odd, but it always connects. The memories are never as simple as that, though, but you get the idea I hope.

Okay, yeah. That's it.

 

may third

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