"I whistle at all the pretty girls"

warning: emo.

He's gone now.

And all I can do is listen to depressing classicalish music and indulge myself in a pumpkin spice latte. I still have not hugged a man in a week. I'm officially depressed and a little maternal.
My chest has that discustingly heavy pressure that makes it hard to take a deep breath. I think I'm literally dehydrated from crying to much. Regina Spektor was a bad choice.

Sometimes I wonder why I bother with a long-distance relationship. Why put myself through that kind of sadness? And in the end I know I say that only because I miss him. But I still question if all of this is worth it, because I'm never gunna be good enough for his family. No matter who I am, no matter if I'm nice or intelligent. Just because I'm not like them. I hate prejudice. I'm sorry I don't have faith. They have no idea how much it kills me too. Can't I just love him? Can't that be enough?

My family is crazy. I miss those crazy bastards though. I worry about them all, and now that's he's gone I don't know what will happen. All I know is back in the day the Cole/Friedrich klan must have done some pretty bad shit for all this karma.

I just want to crawl in a big hole.

Damnit.