New York, I love you but you're bringing me down.

I have all these letters I wrote to every guy I cared about. They're all in my journals. Read by no one but me. I counted them the other day but I forgot the number. I can picture them all in my head though. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. I'm missing my green one from grade 12, I need to find it. I think my first entry was from 2005.  I've got four different blogs. I forget how many thoughts I really do have and then I look at my pile of journals and smile. Lines upon pages of tears and hurt. A cemetery of all my cold thoughts. A burial heap of suicide notes and death threats and love letters. Such a sour girl I've always been.