Dear sweet and adorable peter,
You're leaving for Italy, for all of junior year. We decided that we would end whatever we had between us, because one of us would just get hurt in the end. And then you went back on your word, and now you're texting me, calling me baby, amore, babe, etc, knowing full well that I'm crazy about you. And I am really gonna suffer when you leave. You tell me to meet up with you, and I end up seeing you and your friend for 30 minutes and then you go home without any warning. I hate you. I fucking hate you and your adorable little imp smile. I hate you almost as much as I hate myself. I hope you die of a heat stroke in the beautiful annuls of italia. I don't really. I love you. But you torture me.
Tortured in frisco
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