Para mi 'koi'
9:37 a.m.

Dear Gatita,

It's strange, for me to write to you in this way, but I guess it's better than burying this past by a slow-moving river.

I hate the way you are, with your way of floating from one devotee to another like the Libra you are. Never thinking about how much it will hurt, only about how it will amuse or benefit you.

I hate thinking that I have become another piece of refuse for you, another insignificant that you will never look at again. I hate knowing that you have no idea about the color of my heart for you.

You, little cat, should have never given me the opportunity to feel this way. You should have left me be, and I would have been happy without knowing how callous you are, how hateful your friends are, how strange it is to burn away my heart for you this way.

You'll get married soon, a 'lesbian until graduation' through and through. And I hope it will hurt you, little butterfly, with your legs wide open to let the word see all your treasured colors. I hope that you fly too close to the sun, feel some of the hurt I felt as your little mouse, trapped in your merciful but unyielding trap of love.

Perhaps it is too poetic, and I think I borrowed a few lines from Mana, but the feelings the same. Just know that I will bury you away.

Tu pescadito

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