It’s Cinco de Mayo again. I still love him even though he treated me like shit. I think of him every day and every night. I think of him when I’m screwing my boyfriend. I hate my life. I miss the good times, I miss Umlauf. I miss him and hope every day that I’ll find some little clue that he’s thinking of me or even just how he is. We haven’t sppoken in seven months. Do I still love him? Do I still hate him? I fucking hate Cinco de Mayo.
