You are blind. I mean, you can see alright. I think your eyes are perfect, and I have a lot of friends with glasses, your prescription isn’t that strong. But you are blind.
I want to hold you, to have you, so badly. I want you, every part of you. If we never did more than hold hands I would be happy. Hell, if we never touched at all I would be happy. You wouldn’t even have to say you love me.
Just don’t give all that to him. I’ve fought so much harder, and I care so much more than he does. Stop throwing yourself at him. You said you aren’t straight, and hey, I told you the same thing. I tell you everything, and I think you tell me everything. God, you’re perfect. You’re beautiful, talented, and you are the only person in the world that has ever made me feel beautiful. Made me feel like I’m worth something. He has the whole world fawning over him.
He doesn’t deserve you. He will never appreciate you the way that I do. He doesn’t stay up all night crying, making playlists about lost love, and writing angst filled poetry. He doesn’t write letters in red ink and send them to the wind. He doesn’t write stories for you, or give you his hoodie. He doesn’t go on anonymous and tell you how beautiful you are to lift your self esteem each day. He shuts you out when you talk about passion, when I listen. He ignores you when you share your deepest feelings, but I worship them.
So if you stay with him, fine. I hope you make pretty hipster babies with bad eyesight, nice hair, and obscure taste in music. I hope he never does any of the weird sex stuff you’ve told me you like. I hope you are both stuck here forever while I get out and see the world. And I hope you both have a very happy and boring life together.
But secretly, I hope he breaks your heart, and you start to see me.