I really, really like all the things you do for me.
You text me every day just to see if I’m alright, you make sure to call me every night before I go to sleep, and you even bring me soup when I’m sick. I mean, who actually does that now? It’s so cliche but it is also so adorable. I have never met anyone like you. You’re smart, sensitive, athletic, and cute. You’re so perfect, I couldn’t ask for anything better.
So why do I sometimes avoid answering your calls? Why do I purposely wait an hour before replying to your texts? Why is it that when you ring my door, I am barely able to drag myself out of bed?
I truly enjoy spending time with you. When we hang out, I smile and laugh as much as I do when I’m with my closest friends.
Maybe it makes me a bad person. Maybe it means I’m an ungrateful bitch. But I’m sorry, I can’t help how I feel. I really, really like you, I do. I just feel so freaking suffocated.
When I hang out with my friends instead of you, you really shouldn’t take it personally. I am not choosing them over you. I have friends, and I need to catch up with them once in a while.
When I haven’t called you in half a day, it’s because I’m busy! I have a busy job, and I can’t devote every minute to you!
When I decline a ride from you to work, it’s because I live a block away from the hospital! I don’t need you to pick me up because I CAN WALK. PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT PERSONALLY.
I am flattered every day by your devotion to me. But I really am not sure if I can take much more. You’re perfect, and amazing, and I really, really like you.
I just don’t like you enough.