I should come with a warning label.
I’m poisonous.
I’m a terrible person and I’m waiting for you to see that. Or I’m waiting for you to run out of game to spit at me. Because it’s only for so long that I can pretend that I’m a sweetheart and that you can keep sending me cute one liners that make the blood rush to my cheeks.
You’re going to get sick of chasing me cause I’m so difficult. There will be a day where you don’t feel the need to complement me anymore. And you’ll give up on me. But that’s okay.
I don’t want anything serious. I don’t want the title. I don’t want the commitment. As fun and sweet and hilarious as you are, I don’t want things to get complicated the way relationships tend to do. I don’t want to worry about who you’re seeing, what you’re doing, who you’re doing. — For now at least.
Once you realize that I don’t want any of this, you’re gonna realize how heartless of a person I am. You might as well give up on me now cause I’m not even worth your troubles, sir.
Notes
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