I realize that all day long I listen to your stories, to your endless theories, even to your worries if your chickens have food in country story. And then I talk about worrying about my article and halfway I stop and ask if you’re listening and realize you’re not. I realize whenever I tell you something I have to always check whether you're listening, because most of the time you're not. Sometimes you tell me you feel unappreciated, and I try hard not to be so self-absorbed like all Leos and never tell you, but I do too. At least the men you love at some point loved you back. I never had the same fate. I mean I only really loved two, just a quarter compared to you. With Chase, although i have nothing bad to say about him except having hurt me so much in the past, I am without good words to say about it too. Not once have I felt needed, or my presence appreciated. The same goes with Mark, who will continue to live despite my existence, or inexistence. I also realize I shouldn't complain, after all thanks to you I sometimes feel fine with the fact that I am alone. Because I feel we're in it together. I don't feel the need for a boyfriend whenever you surprise me with mashed potatoes and BLT whenever I'm lonely, or with hokaido dome (our favorite) whenever you promise you'd come to LB early and didn't, or when we sing El Scorcho out loud. It's just today I feel you don't listen to me enough. And I know I have a tendency to talk way too much, but still. I mean I already feel I don't have enough friends who care enough. I shouldn't feel this way about you. You are my best friend, after all.