Sweet nothings.
Save yourself the trouble and do not like me.
Do not complement me. Do not tell me how beautiful my smile is. Do not tell me how even my weird faces are cute. Do not tell me how much you love my hugs and how talking to you makes my night.
Because as much as those things genuinely make me smile, I am terrible news for you.
I get scared easily. I walk away from things without explanation. I make everything more complicated and messier than it has to be. And it’s not you, it’s me. I’m a mess. I hope you’re just being awfully friendly with me. I really, really hope. And if not, do yourself a favor and stop yourself now.
Because I am just trouble.
Notes
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