And that awful moment when you’re figuring out that you have no chances at all and you’re laughing like crazy because you can get mad ; it’s not your fault or his either way. It’s just like that. He doesn’t love you.
And then you ask yourself “ Seriously why would he probably love me ? I’m not the most intelligent girl he’s ever met , or the nicest , or even the most mature. There are scores of girls that are better than me , that move better than me , that are less crazy than me. So why me ? Why would it be me ? This lucky girl who he actually does love.
Then you underestimate yourself , you say that finally , it was the most stupid idea , thinking for even a small moment that he could have loved you.And you try to hide your defeat , your personnal defeat behind the idea that he certainly loves this one or that one , that you love nobody. But inside of you , you really care about that situation and it actually hurts when you start believing that he has feelings for someone else but you.And that viscious circle you got engaged in. You have to feel bad to write texts lke this one? When we’re fine , we don’t think about writing, perhaps happiness isnt meant to be written.
I have never forgotten about you , I tried to but I lied to myself. I oblige myself to be funny to forgot that my life isnt.
I hated thinking about things and people especially when they are mysteries that I couldnt solve. Until you . You’re a fucking mystery , which Igave time to , that I struggled to understand and Im still searching , not bored at all. Strange , isn’t it ?