Do you remember?

#700. The placebo effect. The more I think about it, the more I see. Or well, fail to see. Oh dear me, I seem to have a problem. *cue appropriate Maroon 5 song. I don't know why I pretend I am not secretly really.. just a girl. Ugh. Life. Just a little misplaced affection, I'm sure. Facebook ruins lives. Just sayin'. Moving on to bigger things (yeah right), it's back to where it all began! I have a fabulous reputation, which I seem to be keeping up. *sarcasm. Unconsciously.. literally. Jeez, I really need to turn my fucking life around. Anyway, back to where we all began. Comfort and nostalgia and cramps rolled into one lovely, chilled out day. And yet, the nagging sense of emptiness tagged along behind me, lingering. Oh how fun it would've been, I thought. Followed by the dangerous question I always ask myself, in between the ridiculous narrations in my head. That time I hated you and that time we saw the monster. Really, Abigail. And the way it is now. This can't be the start if it's past the end. Way past. Hmm, getting a little candid here. I hate feeling excluded but I pick fights, I really do. Thus, when push comes to shove, fingers always point in my direction. And I don't even blame them. I need to get over this.

I've been thinking about you

and how it used to be then