Dear Bryan,
I'm sorry I jumped to the same stupid conclusions that I always do. I realise now that your work of art, that you spent long hours putting together, wasn't really anything to do with what I assumed it to be. I'm sorry that I said we were enemies but I dont know how we could ever be friends. My vagina is currently empty and that's all I can really think about most of the time, impulses, you know?
I'm sorry that I took my madness out on you and hovered around your deviantart. I was the one who wanted to break contact and you kept to that agreement eventually, yet here I come barging in whenever I wanted and started all this shit with you again. I'm so sorry. Don't be my enemy anymore.
Aimée
(ps, I didn't actually throw out the dreadlock you spent months growing for me and wrapped with silver wire that I could make colloidal silver out of and survive if there was an epidemic. It's lucky I didn't because the amount of cannabis I smoke isn't so friendly on the old immune system)
Now tell me what you want to hear