It’s fucking 2:30 in the morning. I have shit to do tomorrow. I want to go the fuck to sleep. Instead I have to sit in someone else’s apartment until I don’t even fucking know when because I’m sexiled. I can’t even fucking sleep here because I don’t have a change of clothes or anything. Get the fuck out.
I like flirting with guys who I have never met because then they can fall for my personality. Nobody likes the fat girls, no matter how rad they are.
This really, really sucks. You’re cute, and sarcastic, and laid back, and funny, and so great. We’d be so great together. But you like guys. I hate this so much. I hate not being able to have feelings for you. Maybe it’s nothing, but I hate that I can’t even figure it out. Maybe I’d get over it, or realize that we’re better off as friends. But I’m so freaking curious.
You really hurt me this week. I needed you so much, and you just didn’t care enough to be there. It sucks, because I let myself cry over you — something I swore I would never let happen. Wanna know the worst part? Despite being so upset with you that I didn’t want to see you, what happened made such a huge difference. You couldn’t guess my handedness, my birthday, or my eye color, but you not only took the time to remember my favorite song of all time, but you went on to listen to it, fall in love with it, and learn all the words. The fact that you played it for me tonight and told me how beautiful it was really surprised me, especially since you know how nervous I get showing others how much certain songs mean to me. You might be a shitty friend a lot of the time, but those words meant more to me than I think you’ll ever realize.
I’m moody, I’m inconsistent, I’m sarcastic, and I’m particularly rude to you, simply because I love you so much more than I am allowed to.
