we kiss.
and i remember why i fight so hard.
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@3actplay
we kiss.
and i remember why i fight so hard.
i want to be the one you trust. the one you turn to. the one you share your life and your days & nights with.
i want to be the one who makes you feel safe. the one you know you can rely on—no matter what. because you can.
i want to be able to talk to each other—about anything—and it not be stressful, or angry, or “soul-sucking.” i want you to feel like your best friend has your back. has all your sides. because i do.
i want to heal and better myself not only for me, but for you. for the kids. so that’s what i’ll continue to do.
maybe one day you’ll actually see me. maybe one day you’ll want to. and you’ll do it on purpose.
maybe your mind will only be with me—not someone else. and maybe i’ll be the one you really talk to, turn to, and trust. and you won’t be afraid of letting our relationship actually develop.
maybe one day you’ll give us a real chance. without setting shit up to fail from the start.
i want to be the only person you kiss. the only person you’re intimate with. the only person you share your body with. i want you to share your thoughts with me, share your mind with me. laugh with me. share goals with me. help each other. make each other better.
maybe i’m really just the dumbest boy in school—and that’s highly likely—but i still just can’t shake this inner knowing. when i think about who i want to “do life” with, it’s still only you (and the boys). i’m angry. i’m hurt. but it’s still only you.
i’m sorry that i’ve let you down in the way that i have. there’s clearly a rat-shaped barrier that’s never not been between us, and it has caused me a lot of pain. pain that i didn’t know how to handle well because it was different than i had ever felt. and it just kept happening.
i hope you do what you need to do with her so that you know for sure. she served her purpose, but she’s not the one for you. she never has been.
i am.
maybe one day you’ll see it too.
wish i were spending the older one’s bday with you guys.
maybe there will come a time when i never have to miss another bday or holiday ever again. that would be awesome.
i need you to look me in my fucking eyes and tell me you never loved me. tell me you were thinking of her the "whole time."
be in my physical presence and feel what's between us and say that shit to my fucking face. spend a few hours with me and the kids—see us together—and really fucking say that shit with your chest.
i'm so fucked up over this.
you may be a liar, but you can't fucking fake this.
send this to your rat gf so she doesn’t feel so alone
at least she and her gf can share books this way. i heard she's an advanced reader for her age (still mostly pictures, i'm sure).
send this to your rat gf so she doesn’t feel so alone
i do want to have sex with you.
a lot.
i miss your body. i miss the way you feel and the way you sound.
the way you taste.
i miss all of you.
i miss just fucking talking to you. hugging you. smelling you. laughing with you. sleeping next to you.
i hate this shit.
it’s just a fucking relentless ache.
it’s more than an ache. my stomach hurts at every fucking moment. my heart feels like it’s being squeezed in a goddamn vice grip.
i can’t even cry. i’m too grossed out.
i’ve been trying to be “zen” and “cool” … but i’m so tired of being forced to do that. my insides are completely wrecked over this shit.
and every time i try to think about us together sexually, i picture you with her. the last person you fucked. the last person you shared yourself with. the person you were thinking of apparently the WHOLE FUCKING TIME i was trying so hard to show you how much you mean to me.
you belong with me. so do the kids.
you’re so fucking special.
i thought you felt the same about me.
i just feel so fucking dumb. just so stupid. i hate that i ever believed you at all. i hate myself for this. i hate that i fucking moved here. i never should’ve come here. i can’t stand that i’m down the street and this is the way shit is. this shit is fucking torture and it has been the entire fucking time i’ve lived here.
you insinuated that i “ruined this for you” and you “lost a lot (her)” because of me.
how fucking dare you. like fr. go fuck yourself. or her, i guess. maybe her child bride will find out about it this time.
go get your fucking stubby fingered, mole-faced, poser p3d0 back and live your blake lively, morgan wallen-loving, 7th grade reading level, can’t dance, can’t dress, spoiled, entitled, never-faced-anything-real, white, racist, bumpkin-fuck gender-role-stereotyped-even-tho-she-doesn’t-even-support-trans-ppl-but-call-me-“daddy”-in-bed corny-ass fantasy life together. maybe she can learn how to not change the way she treats her children based on your every fucking mood when the wind blows the wrong way. maybe she’ll actually grow a spine or develop any redeemable morals or values or a point of view (that’s not just appeasing you) at all. lol. right.
but i guess you’ve been into that shit the entire time and i’m just seriously an idiot.
you may belong with me. but you sure af deserve her rn.
you both—your actions—make me sick. i honestly feel bad for her gf. i’m sure she wasn’t in the market to get used and cheated on by a person nearly twice her age to get her gf’s ex back. that’s so fucked up.
you’re both mothers, for fuck’s sake. i mean, jesus christ. how low can you go?
it’s all so fucked up. but also predictable af. i mean i’ve called literally every single thing about this. other than the fact that you “never (“don’t know if you ever”) loved me” and your heart/mind were “always with her.” you really fooled me there. mostly bc you fucking lied to me for 2 fucking years telling me that you didn’t have feelings “like that” for her and you’d “never be with her again.” lol. all you do is fucking lie. to her. to me. mostly to yourself.
and i’ll call it again: you feel lost rn bc the last 2.5 years of your life have been based on these lies in one way or the other. and she was your “safe place” after your marriage, so you feel she’s the same for you now. only—you’re actually growing. and she is a “peaked in high school” kind of person. so fine—maybe it’s nice and comfy for a few months … and then what? you start missing me. you start missing my brain and the way i fuck you. and then we start all this over again? lol. nah. you want her so fucking bad? you’re “so distraught” that “i” caused you to “lose her”? lol. go for it, babe. i PROMISE YOU—you’re gonna be way more disappointed than you think. because not only will she not fulfill you in the way you’re thinking she will, but you’ll have also lost me completely.
it’s all just fucking disgusting and the opposite of nearly everything i believe in. because unlike her—and i guess you too—i actually believe in the right thing.
and you really have the fucking nerve to come at me like i “did this” to you and caused you to “lose” her. while you’re telling me i never meant anything real to you.
lol. go get your girl.
i really hate myself for this. i fucking hate that i let myself feel hopeful—even a little bit.
thanks for taking my blinders off, i guess.
you made your fucking choice. over and over. i mean, clearly that’s what you want. but in the bedroom, you’re always gonna wish it were me instead. and if you’re listening to music. or watching a movie. or playing with the kids. or anything that involves any kind of grace or taste or higher intelligence or thoughtful conversation.
or—it was *always* her, right? lol. cool. okay. enjoy those 4th period vocab words and fingers that can’t even make it halfway thru your vaginal canal. hope you like shirt-on sex. and i just *know* her breath smells. i just know it.
as mentioned, i hope you have the life you deserve together.
i hate her with every ounce of my soul. and i hate the lack of character you turned out to have.
i look forward to finally moving on.
i love you.
so fucking much.
i love your kids.
i can’t stand some of your decisions, but you’re legit my BEST FRIEND. and i’ve never been more attracted to someone in my entire life. to me, you are perfect-looking. honestly. perfect.
it’s really, really fucking with me to think you never felt the same way back.
i hate how this feels. i feel fucking empty. i feel like such a fucking FOOL. i feel so fucking gross.
i appreciate your honesty—but goddamn you really had me going.
you should be an actress. bc shit.
i hope she’s worth it.
to me, nothing would’ve been worth losing you. ever. i tried to show you that. i really did. i know i fucked up. so did you.
i guess it never mattered.
every time we go thru a period of time without speaking and then we chat again, you always have a new person you “talk to every day.” who you’re “really good friends with” even tho i’ve literally never heard of them before.
now it’s some person you work with whose name i forget. before that, it was that white trumper who dates black guys at your lakeland job. before that, it was the person who took her shirt off at your house. before that, it was the crazy girl who treated you like you were tryna date her.
i mean it’s always the rat. always. god forbid you don’t run right back there every fucking goddamn time you have an emotion. but idk—maybe you love her.
lol.
fucking gross.
i’m glad i know this now. because i honestly don’t know if i could’ve ever really “quit” you otherwise. but knowing that you feel this way completely changes my view of you. you’re not who i thought you were.
and this is not me trying to “offend” or “insult” you. i genuinely love who i thought you were so goddamn much—SO much—but apparently you’re just not that person. i still think you’re beautiful and hilarious and very sexy—but you’re not “my baby.” i don’t know who this person is. plus, “my baby” could never have feelings for a fucking p3d0phile. and, like, not even a very smart or funny or stylish or creative or talented one at that. at least kevin spacey gave us “american beauty” and “house of cards.”
and my girl certainly wouldn’t have been thinking about a p3d0phile every time we were together.
and, yes, i know she wasn’t a child gr00m3r while we were hanging out … but even still … to look at each other and laugh with each other and hold each other and kiss each other and fuck each other like we did—and for you to SWEAR TO ME she will NEVER BE ANYTHING TO YOU *EVER* AGAIN—make me feel AWFUL for even questioning you—and then for you to turn around and tell me SHE was on your mind the WHOLE time? oof. that’s basically the worst thing you could say to me other than i don’t allow you to feel like yourself; or you’re worried about me losing my temper around the kids. that’s the perfect storm trifecta of things you could say to fucking ruin me. and you’ve said all of them.
it all just fucking sucks. and makes me feel dirty. and breaks my fucking heart. but what else is new, i guess.
if you ever find yourself in a different headspace—more sure of yourself, more sure of what you want—i’m here. i could never completely cut you out. i just hope you find what you need within yourself—not in a new best friend, not in that fucking rat, not even in me. and if you ever do find that, i will love that person until the day i die. with ALL my fucking heart.
bc she’s the one i’ve been looking for.
i don’t fw liars.
i’ve really been thinking a lot about you/“us” lately. esp since you finally told me shit you’ve lied to me and gaslit me about for more than 2 years.
i wonder what our “relationship” would be like if you had just been 100 with me from the jump, as i requested. as i fucking begged for.
i think i really wanted to believe what we had was special—that our “love” was rare—because i have so much fun with you. and i love your kids so much. but come to find out, my “once in a lifetime love” was your “i don’t even know what love is” and “my head was somewhere else the whole time.”
that’s really hard for me to believe. it doesn’t feel like that when we’re together. or when we’re kissing. or singing and dancing and laughing. or being intimate. or even looking into each other’s eyes.
i haven’t wanted to really swallow this because there’s a big part of me that knows you’re completely full of shit and you’re just trying to “protect yourself.” but i have to take you at your word. and i have to accept this at face value. even if i don’t want to.
i’m always “too much” for you when i expect the truth or expect you to be accountable for your words or actions. you have never “been able to” just meet me here because you haven’t even met yourself there. you haven’t told yourself the truth. how am i supposed to expect you to take care of my feelings when you won’t even acknowledge your own in an honest way?
there’s a lot about this that i do not value. there are many factors in this situation that feel bad to my soul. because it just feels like lies. it is lies. and it feels like you’re generally just better than this. but you told me who you are—so i have to believe you.
i’m not going to continue “pursuing” you in any way anymore. i’m not making myself small anymore or holding myself back anymore to try to make you happy. you’re mad at me and talk shit about/to me no matter what i do. so i could at least leave my house and have friends bc it doesn’t matter anyway. i thought if i stayed to myself and stayed consistent and “proved” what you meant to me, it would show you that i’m not this asshole you paint me as. but you’re always gonna paint me this way. because you’re still unwilling to be accountable for your own behavior and your own decisions. so it’s easier to point fingers.
you act like cheating—in ANY way—is the worst thing anyone could ever do to you. yet you’ve done it over and over and over again. you’re still in a fucked up situation. and although i’m not a judgmental person and i understand everyone makes mistakes, you keep willingly putting yourself in these positions. because you don’t know who the fuck you are.
i do know who i am. and i always have. and i’ve made ENORMOUS mistakes and have made TERRIBLE decisions due to the pain and anger i was feeling. and nothing can “justify” that. but at least i’m responsible for it. and i apologize. and actually talk thru it. and go to therapy. and do internal work. and whatever else needs to be done. because your happiness and your wellbeing matter to me very much. and i have really wanted to show you that.
you have this idea of me that is not—and never has been—who i am. yet, you’re not ready and/or you’re unwilling to see me for who i actually am. and i’m no longer going to try and prove you wrong. this is what you think—so be it. i appreciate the “truth” you’ve shared with me so far, but there’s still SO MUCH that has gone unsaid. or blamed on me without a fair and just and responsible discussion. and if you need me to carry that for you rn, fine. consider it a parting gift.
idk. i just keep replaying “my head was somewhere else the whole time” over and over. and goddamn—that just makes me really mad. and sad. because that’s either a big fat lie, or you legit never cared about me. both feel like shit.
get the rat back. be with her. i think you’re right in your assessment that i’m “too much” for you. so have “not enough” with her and y’all can fall back into your “comfort zone” of her doing whatever the fuck you say without question and never having any type of moral compass or backbone or ambition for better. you have to discover this disappointment on your own. i mean—she’s content dating a child. i feel like that’s all you need to know. but apparently not.
i think i likely put a lot of my own personal hopes onto you. i think maybe i thought certain things were “special” when they weren’t because i hadn’t really allowed myself to connect with anyone for years. and i let you in. more than i’ve ever let anyone in. and that’s the truth. i should’ve listened to you when you said you didn’t want a relationship. i should’ve listened to you when you said not to move here. i genuinely thought i was being romantic. i wanted to show you what you and the kids meant to me. what i was willing to do for you. how i was willing to “stick around” no matter what. but really, i just set myself up for further disappointment.
i appreciate the life lesson and i don’t regret our time together—even if we weren’t “together.” i will always consider you my best friend. there’s some shit you just can’t fake or lie about.
idk what this means for the future. idk if i’ll stay or move back to portland, or maybe to minnesota for a while. the “my head was elsewhere the whole time” has really fucked me up and fucked up my perception of what’s “true.” i was certain we had something really special. turns out, i was just a placeholder.
i do want the best for you. and obv for the kids. and i mean it that i’ll always be here for them. but you and i can no longer communicate for a while. again. you’re right—i can’t just have sex with you. i’m in love with you. and i’ve recently learned you’ve never felt the same for me. so at this point, i would just be hate-fucking you anyway. and i don’t want to do that. maybe we can try one night if you’re out and drunk and don’t spend the night lol.
i love how “big” you are. your spirit. i love how wild you are. i love that we can run a room together if we want to. i love that i can look at you and know exactly what you’re feeling. i felt like we were really a “match” in that way. i wanted to be your teammate so badly. but now i have shrunken myself down to the point where i’m nearly non-existent. because i thought it would “prove” to you how much you mean to me. but you’ve just been playing in my face the entire time. the entire fucking time.
wild shit.
like i said, i saw you, but you never saw me. and apparently, you never wanted to. bc your head was never with me.
i can get my stuff this week one day when you leave for work. i hope the older one has a good bday. and i hope you and that rat work it out so you can FINALLY see—once and for fucking all, jesus fucking christ—what i’ve known this whole time.
i’ll really miss you. i already do. every goddamn moment. but i can’t keep breaking my own heart. i would follow you to the ends of the earth if you kept me hanging on. so we both have to let go now.
i’m just reporting the information i was given. 🤷
i played “chase” bc i’m thinking of you.
turns out it was about you.
i just don’t think you like me very much.
IT’S CALLED COMEDY, OKAY?! LOLOL OMGGGGGGG!!!! :::)))))))
i’m writing this article in notepad. that’s how serious this is.
i like notepad because it doesn’t make me capitalize my shit, and that’s what i’m into, and who do you think you are, word processor, to tell me which words i have to make bigger than the others.
ONLY GOD CAN JUDGE ME.
there will probably be things spelled incorrectly in this document, as well. notepad, to my knowledge, doesn’t have spell check. qzrrrd. nope, definitely doesn’t. i spelled definitely correctly. TAKE THAT, PEOPLE WHO CAN’T SPELL DEFINITELY!
i hate being told what to do. i mean, i like being told what to do, kind of. i’m a rule follower, in the grander sense of things. i’m not a criminal of any kind - except for stealing your heart, girl - HAHA, TAKE THAT, PEOPLE WHO CAN’T SPELL EXCEPT!
but i hate being told what to do when the people who are trying to tell me what to do are bags of dicks. because then they’re all like “go do these bags of dicks things and believe these bags of dicks things,” and i’m all, “no. you take your bags of dicks right out of here.” and then i get in trouble for treating these bags of dicks like they’re bags of dicks.
DO YOU GET IT? BECAUSE I’M A LESBIAN. IT’S CALLED COMEDY.
whatthefuckever. fuck these people who are bags of dicks or faggots or dykes or mustard or qzrrrd or whichever noun, verb or adjective is most insulting to you at this very moment, fuck whatever that is.
just be a good person. and don’t call people faggots or dykes. in case you do, and in that case, call people faggots or dykes. i really don’t care. although the words you choose to use are an expression of your character, they’re usage is subjective, just like pretty much anything else.
people are all up in arms about lena dunham’s character on “girls,” hannah, playing naked ping-pong with a handsome 42-year-old doctor she was banging during the last episode. WHOOPSIE!!!!SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!!!!!!!! LOLOLOLOLL!!!!! ::)));;00
i fucking hate people who write like that. i mean, i don’t hate them as a person, but i kind of do hate them as a person. because this is an expression of their character, and they choose for their character to be an idiot dumb dumb who shouldn’t be alone around machinery or small children. or this person has some sort of nerve disorder which causes him or her to spasm and mash the same key a number of times. and in that case, i apologize. i don’t hate you, and i hope you get better real, real soon. unless it’s genetic and you can’t get better. and in that case, i apologize for assuming your disorder was anything short of the GRAND CASTING DIRECTOR’S work. sometimes god likes to be called that when god’s in l.a. doing press.
either way, it’s a tough life, and i’m sorry for your condition. but seriously, if it’s the nerve thing, you still shouldn’t be around machinery or small children. what if you’re a carpenter and you have a spasm that sets off a tile saw and it slices three of someone’s fingers off? and what if this someone were a child?
fuck it’s hard to be “appropriate” these days.
fuck fucking appropriate. “appropriate” is a bag of dicks.
that just sounded like a gay halmark card from the middle ages. just picture this phrase being said by someone wearing a full suit of armor and looking very stern.
“APPROPRIATE” - the knight proclaimed heavily from beneath his metal exoskeleton - “APPROPRIATE IS A BAG OF DICKS.”
AND. SCENE.
HAHA, TAKE THAT, PEOPLE WHO DON’T KNOW WHAT AN EXOSKELETON IS OR HOW TO SPELL IT!
man, i am KILLING tonight.
so lena dunham is playing naked ping-pong with this good looking doctor fellow and there’s this debate as to whether someone like that - the handsome doctor - would be caught fucking “someone like her,” and when people refer to “someone like her” it’s almost always in reference to dunham’s body as if it were a personality trait.
if anyone watched the episode at all, they’d realize that joshua the doctor was totally into playing naked ping-pong with her and fucking her and all of the things you associate with the physical self. he was totally down for all that shit because he was into her as an entity. “you’re a weirdo, but i’m into that, and you kinda make my old guy dick hard.” i’m paraphrasing, here.
it wasn’t until she went a little “young girl still finding herself and getting too weird too fast” and he went a little “oh shit, my wife and i separated and what the fuck am i doing?” that things weren’t quite the same after.
it wasn’t about the physical self any more than it was about ray’s screen time. it was about the mind. it was about the spirit. he wanted to grab that fleshy white ass as much as anyone else in the united states and surrounding areas did. it’s not everyone’s thing, but it’s some people’s thing. just like any other thing is “some people’s thing.” everyone has a thing. right now my thing is laughing cow cheese and audiobooks. i guess that’s two things. whatever. i picked two things.
the point is that it’s about a moment. or a series of moments. a chapter in life, whatever length it may be, dedicated to experiencing that thing. until it gets weird and then you move on. just like you fucking should.
so diluting the episode to something as shallow as a physical appearance - even though lena dunham can do whateverthefuck she wants with her body and there are MANY people who are attracted to her for that very reason - allowing it to be about anything short of hannah’s character have a thing or two to learn about life.
it always comes down to character.
be into whatever you’re into, just don’t be bags of dicks.
it’s midnight. exactly midnight. i always say it’s exactly something that’s already exact: like exactly equal, or exactly tied. exact is exact. but not to me. my brain needs to know like, “seriously, dude, this shit is TOTALLY AND COMPLETELY [this thing that’s already totally and completely whatever it is].” i’m a fucking nutjob.
i talk about poop a lot, but i really only talk about it for the sake of talking about it. i don’t want to see it or be near it or smell it. or - god forbid - have it on me. i’d throw up everywhere. i just think poop is funny. but it’s not funny when you’re pooping and you have your period at the same time and you’re like WHY THE FUCK ARE ALL THESE THINGS COMING OUT OF ME?! science is a real motherfucker sometimes.
speaking of being a woman or a drag queen, you know when you just put on mascara and then you sneeze? WHAT THE SHIT IS THAT SHIT?! ugh. i just wag my fist in the air like, “ya got me again, universe!”
i hate when i have these great ideas and then i’m like, “i’ll just write that down later”, and then i don’t, and then i forget them. it’s really sad. it’s maybe one of the saddest things in life other than me not marrying christina hendricks. and that’s almost as sad as me not marrying rashida jones.
i have all these things in my head. i have all these things that i want to write down. there’s a book inside of me. not like i want to write one, but like i’m into some freaky ass shit and i put a book inside of me. obviously it’s one of those small dictionaries that people give out for free because i only want my vaginal canal to be filled with facts and proper grammar.
now you know how i got the nickname “webster”. HAHA AND YOU THOUGHT I WAS A HUGE EMMANUEL LEWIS FAN.
too bad my mom was a mere peasant when she died. too bad she was poor and i didn’t get any money. too bad that she left me with all this shit in my head and not an easy way to get it out.
i guess that’s part of it, though. the part that will make me.
i gotta do it on my own. i gotta dance my dance.
dance, motherfucker. dance.
it’s so strange to me that you can have feelings for that person. even still.
i hate that you lied to me so much. and gaslit me. and accused me of shit you, yourself, were doing and i wasn’t.
i hate who i became because of it. i hate what i did to you. i hate that i got so angry. but i was angry. a “healthy relationship” was impossible under those circumstances.
i feel like i’ve been wearing performative blinders for 2+ years and they’re finally off. and i appreciate it, but i’m also so, just, idk. disappointed, i guess. my stomach is in knots. it all feels really unfair. but i guess that’s life.
i understand now that i saw you, but you didn’t see me. not in the way i thought you did. apparently you just saw me as a depressed weirdo (not wrong lol) who “does voodoo” to hurt ppl. lol. that last part is so incorrect in like every category. like i said, you didn’t ever really see me. and at least i know that fs now.
we never had an honest talk before today. i’m grateful we finally got there, i guess.
you have to figure this out on your own. so i’m gonna fuck off for a while. i mean i have been, but including here too.
fwiw, i think you guys should try again. bc otherwise you’ll always have this idea in your head and you’ll romanticize what you think it was. i think if you were actually together—esp now—you’d get annoyed by how dumb and corny and spineless she is and you’ll see it was just comfort. a safe place to land after your marriage. i mean you have this fucked up idea of who i am in the opposite direction. i think if you really gave it a try with her again, you’d find yourself very bored. and not like “safe” bored. i mean like not intellectually stimulated. or stimulated in other ways. ugh. fucking disgusting.
she doesn’t hold you accountable. she doesn’t challenge you to do better. she’s doesn’t even read books over a 7th grade reading level. i check you—but i also “check on you.” get you a girl who does bofa.
i was right about who she is and i’m right about this. but just as you had to come to an *actually* honest conversation with me on your own, you have to come to this on your own too.
no matter what we went thru, my heart, my mind, and everything else always belonged to you. i mean that. take care, darlin.
we can text sometimes. 🙄
i’m so angry today.
i hate not talking to you. i hate not seeing you. i hate not sharing our lives. i hate not seeing the kids. i hate missing every fucking bday bc I’m not “allowed” to be there—bc that fucking disgusting corny-ass rat is there. i hate missing you. i hate knowing that that rat is likely right back where she always fucking was—up your fucking ass. i hate that she fucking refuses to get a different job. i hate that you were so upset about her dating a fucking toddler. i hate how much you let her ruin literally everything between us. i hate how unfair everything is. i hate the state of the world. i hate how i feel all the fucking time. i hate liars. i hate how heavy my heart is at EVERY. WAKING. MOMENT. i hate not being able to teach the kids things and watch them learn. i hate not cooking for you. i hate not hugging you and kissing you and holding your hand. i hate not smelling you. i hate not sitting on the bathroom floor talking to you while you’re taking a bath. i hate not folding your laundry. i hate that you feel like this is necessary. i hate your lack of accountability. i hate being blocked on fucking everything. i hate that even just seeing your face pop up for a second in the thread of ours i have pinned to the top of my messages on tiktok makes me so happy. i hate that that’s all i get (and it’s only happened like twice). i hate everyone who gets to look at you and talk to you and be in your presence and laugh with you (except the kids obv). i hate feeling like my fucking soulmate/loml is literally down the street and i may never see her again. i hate how fucked up everything got. i hate that you feel like we can’t fix it or start over (bc we ALWAYS can—you are my HEART—all we have to do is take accountability and actually talk and apologize to each other). i hate feeling so alone. i hate my life rn. i hate always waiting and never getting to actually *be* with you. i hate that you’re literally the smartest person i know and you behave like an idiot so often. i hate never looking forward to anything. i hate never having fun anymore. i hate not listening to music and singing with you. i hate, hate, hate that you feel like you “need” to be without me. i hate that i can’t even allow myself to think about this shit because it just makes me cry. i hate never getting a real chance to show you what we could be—WITHOUT other fucking ppl involved. i hate that i literally NEVER had a fair shot.
i hate not being able to love you.
i hate everything rn.
but i’ll never hate you.
i kinda still can’t believe u passed up going to that concert with me.
i feel like we’re really gonna regret that one day when we’re drinking wine on the couch together.
i hope we get another chance.
i’m not gonna stop posting here. i love you too much. and this is my phone.