Okay, you know what? It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m gonna say what I want here, and no one should give me shit about it.
You want the truth?
I think I like him. A lot. And the only reason why I said I fucking didn’t care anymore was because I was still mad.
And yes, it doesn’t make him any less of a dick. But the truth is, I light up when he messages me, I grin when I get his email. And I don’t sleep until at least 12 because I know he’ll be awake then. Yes. So call me crazy. And stupid. And fucking retarded.
But that’s the truth.
I keep trying to tell myself that this is an online thing. And that it won’t work. And that he could be lying through his throat and balls and no one would be none the wiser.
But at the end of the day, I’ve ALWAYS been a hopeless romantic at heart. I crave for the guy that whispers sweet nothings in your ear, telling you that he would do anything just to be with you, even if it means he getting sunburned in Sunny Singapore.
And yes, it could be full of shit. And yes, it could mean nothing to him to say it. But when your life isn’t going as smoothly as you want it to, you take what you can get and you pump up the small things into huge things and make a big fucking deal out of it.
But yes, I’m going to Manchester. And I’m gonna probably meet someone better.
And that’s the only reason why I didn’t say yes to him.
Even though, technically, I put the idea into his head.
But I don’t know anymore. I give up. I’m going to bed. And it’s only 11.
No comments:
Post a Comment