Stuck.
I'm sitting here and though I have a date tonight and have gone with two others.
I think of you.
You're dangly-limbs, your strong arms, the little boy laugh you would do when you weren't thinking. The way you counted your money in the slowest manner and laid the bills together.
Eventually you would rubber band them and put them away in your glove compartment- subconsciously hoping I wouldn't shuffle through them later on when my antsy boredom gave way.
I want to congratulate you. Game over, you win, come back. You lasted the longest without a word, you cared the least, you got over it easiest. You were more mature, you were better. You're what I want and I miss you so much. I hate thinking of you.
But I wont. Because you hurt me. Whether or not you meant to, you fucking hurt me. You'd toss me to the side, dance around my questions, shrug when I suggested working on things, and ignore me.
Why didn't you show up that night? You knew I was coming. Don't tell me otherwise. Why did you do that to me? I wanted to stay friends. I wanted to have a good talk, leave on good terms, and hang out a few more times that break on friendly terms. I wanted a picture-book ending. I know that's unrealistic, but at least you could've given me something better than sitting in your front yard crying until my eyes hurt and I could barely breath.
You stole a year away from me. I miss you. I hate you. I love you.
I still haven't forgiven you.
Happy Valentine's Day.
I think of you.
You're dangly-limbs, your strong arms, the little boy laugh you would do when you weren't thinking. The way you counted your money in the slowest manner and laid the bills together.
Eventually you would rubber band them and put them away in your glove compartment- subconsciously hoping I wouldn't shuffle through them later on when my antsy boredom gave way.
I want to congratulate you. Game over, you win, come back. You lasted the longest without a word, you cared the least, you got over it easiest. You were more mature, you were better. You're what I want and I miss you so much. I hate thinking of you.
But I wont. Because you hurt me. Whether or not you meant to, you fucking hurt me. You'd toss me to the side, dance around my questions, shrug when I suggested working on things, and ignore me.
Why didn't you show up that night? You knew I was coming. Don't tell me otherwise. Why did you do that to me? I wanted to stay friends. I wanted to have a good talk, leave on good terms, and hang out a few more times that break on friendly terms. I wanted a picture-book ending. I know that's unrealistic, but at least you could've given me something better than sitting in your front yard crying until my eyes hurt and I could barely breath.
You stole a year away from me. I miss you. I hate you. I love you.
I still haven't forgiven you.
Happy Valentine's Day.