Innerworkings.

I find it terribly dreadful that I have only skyped with you twice in the whole time we’ve been talking. I try. I try. I try. I’m not much one for giving up, but I do. I give up, on this at least. I suppose we differ too greatly. I would love to skype far more than you would, apparently. It’s quite disheartening, honestly. There is a ridiculously large number of guys that would like to chat with me the way I desire to with you. You know that.

I don’t know. I just feel like the thing you keep on your side to stave off your boredom. I have no part in your life, and you seemingly have no part in mine. I hate that. The fact of the matter is that this just isn’t as satisfying as I would like it to be. I’m so tired of being invisible.

To everyone.

It’s numbing me. 

Honestly.