Dear Max,
My life is completely fucking wrecked, not even weed can make me feel better.
I should've known better that to let someone else in my life after you fucked me over. I should've known that it was my destiny to be alone my entire fucking life. Maybe I deserve this pain, I deserve to be unhappy.
I actually hurt myself, Max. I cut myself, and I know it's a hella fucking stupid thing to do, but I couldn't stop myself. I cut my thigh 3 times with a blade I pulled out of a pencil sharpener and I hate to say it, but I felt so much better after I did it. Maybe I shouldn't tell you any of this, but who else am I going to tell? If I keep it bottled up I'm going to explode, at least that's what the therapist says.
I'm just so tired of being lonely. I wish you understood, but you probably have a million friends in Seattle or at least enough for you to be able to completely forget about me. We were best friends and had been for 8 years. How can you forget me so easily? Why am I still sad you left me after all these years, knowing I'm shit to you?
I just don't know anymore
Chloe
YOU ARE READING
Letters
FanfictionChloe was lonely when her best friend, Max Caulfield, left for Seattle. She then spent the next five years capturing her life in letters to Max. Slight TW//
