052512: Coincidence.
It’s 3AM and I’m thinking about you.
It was 2AM that night and I was thinking about you.
It was 1AM that night and you were here.
I should know that it doesn’t matter what happened that night because for all I know, you could be off kissing bitches I don’t like. I shouldn’t feel special cause I will never know if what you say to me is genuine. And I guess I’m stupid for not trusting you more, right? I have no reason not to. But, I will never know how much I mean to you, which really, honestly sucks. The thing is, though, you have no reason to only be exclusively sweet with just me. Idunno. I’m okay with that cause I get so freaked out when it comes to getting serious. If there’s a time and place, then I guess we will one day, right? Hopefully.
If you do mean the things you say to me and I’m the only one you treat this way, then I will be giddy as hell. Because you are the cutest thing. I’m just happy that through everything that’s been going on this weekend, you thought about me at least once. You had to have.
Thank goodness I forgot how to give a fuck.
It’s just cause it’s late.
I need someone to prove to me that I’m worth it and that’ll be as concerned about me as I am about them.
Why is that so hard.
Why am I so stupid.
Why aren’t I asleep yet.
And I’ll dance around.
You know at the end of the year when everyone is writing in year books? Usually, it’ll consist of cutesy things like, “I’m always here when you need me,” or “You rock, don’t ever change,” or something stupid like that. I’ll probably write that to everyone that made me smile at least once. Or I’ll bring up some funny insider we have.
Not my letter to you, though.
It’ll be the most bitter, angriest letter you’ve ever read. I’m gonna write about how much I hate you. I’m gonna point out your every flaw and your every bullshit excuse. And I’m gonna laugh because you’ll probably write something nice in my yearbook, about how nice you thought I was. But, I’m not. At all. And this will satisfy my malicious intent because you will have not expected this vicious behavior from me. I’m going to make you regret ever mistreating me in anyway or form. But you know what will be the most satisfying of all? When you look back at your yearbook to reminisce all the good times you’ve had, there will be my letter. Sitting at the back page of your yearbook. Burning a hole through all the pages. And instead of being happy about all the friendships you’ve made or the memories that you’ll never forget, you’ll reevaluate every wrong thing you’ve ever done to me and realize your high school career was bullshit.
Okay, I’m not as bitter as I sound. Sorta. Ohwell. Need to study more. Bye.
.. Honestly though, It’ll just be good to know I got the truth off my chest. Finally.
Maybe I can convince you that I’m perfect by getting you soup, orange juice, and kleenex. ahaha.
T-MINUS 4 HOURS.
I need to learn to be the perfect woman in the next 4 hours.
I also need to learn to stop being so damn giddy.
I can’t help it cause you’re just so damn adorable.
Second.
I am warning you now: I’m writing with no hope or purpose. And I am not thinking with my brain, rather my heart. Which I know is stupid, but sometimes you can’t help yourself, you know? You can continue reading if you’d like, but there are no promises that this post will be thought-provoking or substantial.
Gutsy.
(This is another one of those incoherent, un-proofread posts that I need to write to get things off my chest. Ignore everything. That’s always the disclaimer.)
