I think this is the innocent me. No. Innocence is something I've lost long ago. This is the stupid me. If there is such a thing. I just don't thing I'm capable of... whatever.
Soooooooooo you wrote about meeeee. You wrote about me, didn't you? And you laughed at me all the while, didn't you? And I bet you're going to write about how you didn't write about me but actually did. Because that's what you do, yes, I know you, and you've done it before.
You probably think this is funny. And you know what? I think you followed me that night. There's no way you could've ended up there. I have friends, don't try to convince me of things that aren't true.
When we talk you never talk about it. It's sad. And a bit pathetic. I mean, a grown man who can't own up to his actions/words/published words? Are you playing a game? I think you would like to be young again. There comes a point in the life of a middle aged man when he regrets everything he did and wishes he had done things differently. This is you, doing what you shouldn't.
And I can't say I'm not enjoying it.
Juliet.
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