I miss you, lyk more than ever.

Just on th other page, you were talkin turh me.

Hey, miss me?

Nah. Bloody fat hope, bitch.
We're all goin our own ways after this year.

Omg, kill me already.

Today's th 19th.

Mark it, th 19th day of not textin you "Goodnight".

But somehow, eenthough I managed turh survive this far,

I'm slowly dying inside.

Now yr online nt believen that yr

actually talkin turh me.

Maybe yr fading away frm my mind.
No, I'm lying.