I am in love with you in the least healthy possible way. I forgive you too easily for my own good because I think I deserve it when you hurt me or at least I haven’t done enough to warrant you staying my friend if I don’t forgive you right away.
I am not in love with you, but I’ll keep saying I am because it’s an easier phrase than “addicted to”.
You are the fucking hit of Benzedrine I use as part of a routine that feels pretty amazing when it’s with me and leaves me empty when you leave. You’re the chase, you’re the buildup that doesn’t amount to anything, and I hate you every bit as much as I need you.
Fuck your perfectly made tea.
Fuck your gorgeous smile.
Fuck your hands and how safe they made me feel.
Fuck your haircut and your leather jacket.
Fuck your taste in music.
And especially fuck your kisses in doorways.
Especially fuck your apologies.
One day I’ll see to it you feel as insignificant as I’ve always been to you.