I tell you that I don’t know why I miss you so much or why I feel so guilty about how badly I treated you. I wish you knew how much I changed in my life and love. I never hurt anyone else like that from that point on, no matter what it has cost me. I won’t leave the girl I am with now just because I don’t want to regret leaving her the way I regret leaving you but, I don’t think that’s it. I don’t think that it could compare. I look at your pictures sometimes 4 or 5 times in a day. With great restraint, I refrain from calling you or texting or leaving posts on your wall. It’s been years and my desire for you is immeasurable. Brand new, still. I have not known anger, sadness, joy, or fear so tremendously as I have known this desire for you. I want you with effortless devotion. I feel it sexually, emotionally; I know it logically. So much so that the sum of every experience in my life, both joy and pain, is but an accessory against the extreme illumination of this painfully bright backdrop. You give me angst. I sometimes wish that I could just be alone and wait for you. Even if you never call. I would die alone, in my devotion to my desire for you. It has become all I am; my summation. I wonder if you feel me. How could you not?