I’m having this stupid crisis because of you, you don’t know that, do you? It feels as fucking ironic as it sounds okay, and it was all because of you.
I don’t exactly know when it started, but God, it just did. And the last thing I knew is that you could sweep me off my feet whenever you want. You always could, notwithstanding the circumstances.
But I feel cold and terrible. Because I know for a fact that I can’t, and would NEVER, have you. I can’t have you. I can’t have you. I can’t have you. I can’t have you. I can’t have you. I can’t have you. I can’t have you. I can’t have you.
It keeps ringing in my head and I don’t need an evidence to confirm that to myself. You just won’t be. I just can’t.
I’ll never have you.
Because I’m a mess. I’m emotionally and psychologically fucked up. I’m going to ruin everything.
And I always foretell the ending. And then go create the cause. And then go save myself. And then cry and wonder why I ended up alone.
I’ve came up with tons of reasons to stop, but I just won’t. And it’s stifling. And it’s fucking suffocating. All I do is cry when I think of you. Cry. Cry. Cry. And cry.
I always cry and sob, curled up at the corner of my bed, with my back facing the dim light coming from my laptop in which a photo of you with your childish smile is displayed…
And I don’t know when I could stop.
This isn’t going to stop.
You were the reason why I finally doubted what I am. Escapee instinct, perhaps. I needed to get out of the picture before you even confirm to yourself you screwed me over. I needed an escape. I needed to save myself. So I deluded myself that I wasn’t straight. Because I know in the long run, I’ll be left in ruins; hating someone who knew nothing; hating you for loving you too much. And I wanted to assure myself that I won’t appear like the moron in the picture; I needed to save my ego on the brink of a dead loss, before I even get an answer I didn’t ask.
I wanted to make sure I won’t come out as the idiot. I have to delude myself I have backups so I don’t feel pathetic. Numerous backups. Endless and sure alternatives. So I feel indemnified.
This sure sounds like a contest. Only it’s not. Because you’ve already won.
And I’ll never win.
Because I’m the one going nuts. I’m the one obsessing. I’m the one hoping. I’m the one crying. I’m the one wishing you knew. I’m the one wishing this thing between us would work out because the rest didn’t.
Because I’m the one who’s pathetically inloved with you.
It’s you. You. You.
As long as there’s you.
You fucked me up
What did you do to me
What did you do