Midnight Thoughts

Sometimes there is this pit deep down inside of all the hate, that reaches out to be heard, but the hate just pushes it down. That’s the part of me that wants to be in a relationship. It’s also the part of me that knows people are shit and that I won’t find what I want in a guy. So like what’s the point, yanno? I mean, hell, if I kill myself, I could be reborn better and not so fucking no. but I will never be this perfect again.
I’m a walking paradox, and I hate it

so

fucking

much.

And I don’t know what’s scarier. The fact that no one will love me as much as I love myself, or the fact that I’m so desperate for it that I rely on small forms of attention from guys that aren’t even interested in me. It’s like being swallowed in desperation, but accepting it so that I can still be me

You know, I still think about that night at the movies. I still think about how I felt in that moment. I still do. And I torture myself with it, like it’s some joyous type of masochism. When I think of it sometimes, I imagine different outcomes. Sometimes. I remember the conversation we had. I remember us talking about the gay couple next to us. I also remember afterwards. I remember the warmth of that hug–oh that hug. I wish I could have been wrapped in your arms longer… Just a moment longer…

I think about you frequently. Very, very frequently. Not like every 20 minutes or anything crazy, however, you are a wanderer in my thoughts, You ride my train of thought as if you were the ideas it came up with. I don’t know, does that analogy work? It’s crazy how you even manage to find ways to mess up more than my life.

Oh wait, it wasn’t intentional right. Oh no no no. It couldn’t have been. So those little digs to make sure you have me, those aren’t intentional? Those heart emojis that dob’t have feelings behind them, they don’t mean a thing to me?

Tsk. Tsk. I should’ve learned. I should’ve learned.