Confusion

This one will not be in poem form. But no one reads these, anyway, so it's useless. Just like everything else in my life. See, he wrote something. A story. I know it was about me, because it was the exat same situation. Well, kinda. See, I can't see, talk to, or even think about him until I'm eighteen. Even though he's the only thing ever on my mind. Well, what he wrote was about us rung away together, after four years apart. He used fake names, but I know it was about me, and I cry every time I read it, which is quite often. It makes me want to stop cutting. Anyways, I'm so confused. And conflicted. Because there's this other guy, in Colorado. He loves my poetry on fictionpress. I have hardly told him anything, but I harthis sixth sense that he's not who he says he is. Not in a creeper way, but that he's him. Like, the him. It's probably not right, but I just have this feeling. I've always been superstitious. See, I added him exactly three months after I added him. No big deal, right? Except that day (May 15th), he wrote something. What I was talking about before. And he (ThatLonelyOne) reminds me a lot of him. So I don't know what to do. If he (the he) is ThatLonelyOne, then I would like for him to let me know in some way, shape, or form. Unless, of course, that's too much for you to do.

Hope and pray and find a way,
~Zoe