See the original post here, and feel free to add your own anonymous venting in the comments. It is seriously refreshing.

-The few emails aren’t enough. I miss being able to walk across campus to your dorm room and climb in bed. I miss the times we watched movies and snuggled, I miss the times we cried over boys. When I think of college, I always think of the moments with you. I know you’re going through some confusing times and there’s nothing more that I want than to be able to fly around the world to be with you. It scares me to think that we won’t ever have that proximity again.

-I can’t really imagine my life without you in it, but I don’t know exactly how you’re supposed to fit into my life now. How do we go from what we were to just being friends? When things happen in my day, when I hear a good song, when I read a good book- you’re always the person I want to tell about it. Maybe it’s just comfort, maybe I got too used to having you around in one way or another. I’m always going to love you, but you’ll never care enough to actually make things work.  

-You annoy the living crap out of me. I cringe every day coming to work knowing that I have to deal with you. I hate the fact that we both share the same title, but I put in thousands of times more effort than you. The other day? When you lost two weeks worth of data after reformatting our disk? And then stood behind me crunching Doritos while the tech guy and I furiously tried to save the information? And even THEN sitting with your feet up on the desk while I spent 12 hours retyping the information and coming in on my day off? I hated you with every single cell in my body. I used to wonder why you couldn’t get hired with two Masters degrees, but now I know.

-I know I act like a tough girl, but you see past that. The other night, when he said those things to me, I felt protected by every word that you said in response to him. When you asked me out earlier this year, I didn’t take you seriously- you come across as egotistical and pretentious. But the other night on the phone you brought up the homeland security class in which we had watched videos of toxic chemicals being used on bunnies. You brought up exactly what I was wearing that evening, how I tilted my head to the side and looked away from the screen, how you saw me on the verge of crying. You said that I was beautiful then, and that you loved ever single one of my crazy quirks. Then you told me that you regretted never having a real chance to show me that. Part of me really wishes that we’d had that chance.

-It scares the living hell out of me that you’re slipping back into depression. In high school, I could never understand why I couldn’t make you happy. I understand now that it’s chemical, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. All of those corny commercials about depression affecting everyone are actually right. I want you to never hurt, to never be sad. But I’ll be with you through everything again.

-I haven’t felt this way about someone ever and it scares me. I know I’m getting attached, but I have a terrible history of attachment leading to disappointment. I am absolutely terrified of falling for you because, in all honesty, the odds are against us. You’re everything I could ever want in a guy, and I know that I’m going to be head over heels if we keep this up. I’ve never been able to connect with a guy on every level the way that I do with you.  I keep trying to sabotage what we have, to detach myself. Make excuses for why I can’t see you, act like I don’t care as much as I do. But really, I’m praying that everything with us works out.

-It’s been three years since your death, and every day I think of you. I heard a laugh last week that sounded just like yours and I really thought for a moment that you were there. I’m writing this with your ring around my finger, wrapped in your blanket. Your life is still very much a part of mine. Life will never be as beautiful without you in it.

-I get it, you’re famous. You have a website, you have thousands of fans. I’ve known you since we were young, before things were like this. Part of me likes the fact that people scrambling for your autograph see you leaving with me. Or that people recognize you when we’re out. But I also can’t stand the inflated ego, which I guess comes with the territory. I miss the kid I used to tease and dunk in the lake, I miss the boy who tried to kiss me when we were drunk in the cabin in the Alps. I miss the guy who used to make time to see me and didn’t care whether he had matching monogrammed wine glasses and a Rolex.