At this point, I can't tell if I've done something incredibly stupid or not. Writing that letter to Angie was at once very relieving and the most stressful thing I've done in a while. I don't know when or if I'll get any response (or what response I might get). It is completely unpredictable, though I have a feeling that I may have ruined whatever tenuous friendship we had. I don't know why I feel that way....maybe I don't want to get my hopes up.
I wonder if honesty is always the best policy? I think I live in a more romantic (in the general sense or the word) world where the truth can always set you free, honesty is endearing, and positive twists of fate are just around the corner. As much as I like to poo-poo phony sentimentality, I think I'd like to believe that the world works in such ways. I'd like to believe in Karma Police.
Even though the letter wasn't as revealing as it could've been, I feel as if I just peeled off all of my skin and handed it to her with a bucket of salt to use at her discretion. I don't often feel so vulnerable. There's something to be said for throwing your fragile psyche into someone else's lap. Then again, there's something very crazy about it.
I hope I receive some kind of response soon. "Waiting is the hardest part."
I don't want to screw this up.
update: I did screw it up. I suck. Why am I so retarded? ugh.