• Confessions

    by  • January 31, 2014 • Confession • 0 Comments

    I love you, but I’m not in love with you.
    I like everyone one day, and then no one the next.
    You broke up with me, but I broke up with him cause it felt like cheating on you.
    I kissed her while I was with him.
    I have not a fucking clue what to do about ,my guy best friend, because we’re always cuddly, and he has a girlfriend.
    I can’t date anyone, because I have these sadistic thoughts running through my head about how to screw them up emotionally, and I need to protect them from myself.
    I like this girl in a couple of my classes, she’s cute, but our last conversation was about my hair dye.
    I’m a virgin, but I don’t want to be, and yeah, I’ve thought about it extensively.
    I only react sexually with you. Everyone else turns me into a panic giggle fit.
    I convinced myself to let my love for you show I could have easily not said a word, I was hoping you catch me.
    I cried probably five times after you broke up with me, I didn’t cry before you.
    I’m still pissed at what you pulled, you should have been honest with me.
    I didn’t care you cheated on me, I cared that you didn’t tell me, I figured it out when you didn’t tell me.
    I thought I was a fairly good choice, but I’m never enough for you.
    I stopped trusting you, about halfway through our ‘relationship.’
    I figured it was only right for you to leave me for someone else, because I left my guy best friend for you.
    I knew you were going to break up with me about a month and a half before you actually did. So congrats for sticking it out so long.
    You say shit all the time, and I swear you do it just to strike a nerve, so yeah, NERVE FUCKING STRUCK.
    I can’t hate you, because I know this sweet side of you, and it’s fucking killer.
    You practically used me to get you off, knowing I couldn’t help myself, because I just want to make you fucking happy. My battery is dying so I’ll be back lins, with more drama filled shit that haunts me.

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