Yeah, I slip up sometimes, I know. I’m not an adult. I can’t always be the mature one. Sometimes I just have to act my age. I have to act 17. At least for that short moment, anyways. Seriously, give me a break. You’re not my father. I know you know that. You know the deal with him right now. Why ? Because I trusted and loved you enough to let you know. To let you in. But you hurt me and just hearing all this from you hurts too. You say cussing as much as I did for the moment isn’t me. Yet, I haven’t talked to you in almost a month since yesterday. How much can you really know someone anyways? Well I know that I don’t know you, not as well as I would liked to. You were too busy being there for me.. You have no idea how much I still appreciate that. Well people move on, you did. I did, but then I moved back 20 squares and have to work my way back up. I really hope we can be friends, if not more. But I want to be happy and I want you to be happy, too. I just know that I need you around. So this is me being mature. This is me letting you know that I realize where you’re coming from. Yet this is me also letting you know that I am my own person; that I do make mistakes; that I do actually own up to them; that after everything we’ve been through I could never hate you.