Theory #13: It goes kind of like this: we mess up, big time. Or they mess us up big time. And then we start again.

 (A letter to L)
 Dear L,

  Wow. December. I look at my calendar in sheer confusion. When did time pass so quickly? When did everything happen? When did nothing happen?
  In the mornings I hate to get up. In the weekends I can get away with it but not during the rest of the week. There's school. And there's you. You tire me. You mess me up, maybe not on purpose but you do.
 

  I was thinking about you the other day and realised that while you helped me find a part of myself that I didn't know before, you have now become a habit. And I'm not sure I like that part of me, I'm not sure I like who I am anynore. I've let many others down, but most of all I've let myself down and I don't want to need you anymore. Not when you're clearly not there.
  I'm just wondering, in your head, what are we?

  Because I'm tired of games dammit. So this is it. The end. It hurts a bit, and I really want to skip the part where I try to let go of everything - everything that still exists anyway -  but this is life and I'll be stronger for all of it. One day some else will come and I'll see you as what you have been to me for some time now: ashes of something that could have been.

    I think the moment deserves a cup of hot chocolate. Goodbye.

P.S. I ought to call Annie. It's been a year since that day.