I’m holding on because I can swear you need me. I can promise you need me. I know it.
but actually, you don’t. I’m just craving your affection and attention which is so unhealthy and wrong and you have a life and I have a life and she think she’s pregnant and what the hell are we doing here and how can we be friends and why are you so beautiful and kind to me and why do you put up with me and why aren’t you berating me for being annoying and why don’t you attack me and why dont you hate me and why don’t you tell me I’m horrible and why don’t you run away from me like everyone else
and didn’t you use protection. why do you sleep with people who hate you
why do you have sex if it makes you feel like shit
and how can the popular pretty golden child ever be friends, ever confide, ever appreciate a girl like me.
this is not some romantic comedy. this is just a pattern repeating itself. we’re not supposed to be doing these things. you’re supposed to be with pretty people and your rich people problems and floating on air and eating vodka ice cream and being surrounded by beautiful things.
I’m supposed to be out over here…pariahville, where things are harsh but I get things done.
Is it weird that your presence is both rejection and acceptance? A bittersweet reminder of the only friendship I’ve only experienced….
I love you. Not romantically…just confusedly….just thankfully. just kindred-ly just spiritually. just insatiably. just like a cold loves to bury itself deep inside your lungs until it knows your body inside and out.i want to share my world with you.
it doesnt have to be sexual or romantic and erotic or weird or hateful or lustful or naked or, or, or
just lets go grocery shopping. and talk.