There are no more games.
I AM DONE.
I will no longer wonder what I mean to you, if anything.
This is me walking away.
Tell me now.
Speak the words, or I am gone.
If I am not worth you being honest, then I am not worth the fIght apparently.
If you won’t speak up for me, if only to tell me how you feel about me, then you would never speak up in my honor, would you? If you can’t tell ME how you feel about me, how am I to ever expect you to feel confortable telling anyone else? (Let alone being so proud of me that you shout it from the rooftops?!)
The bottom line is this: I have a fear, a deep seeded fear that I am just not pretty enough for you. I am simply not good enough, huh? And you refuse to tell me how you feel because A) you agree or B) you are so much of a coward that you don’t even realize what real love is.
True love would look past my flaws. Real love will love my cuddles. True love would see me as warm and snuggly, instead of short and chibby. Real love would see me as cute and playful, instead of annoying and ignorant. True love would be able to look me in the eye, instead of darting your eyes away. Right?
We are a disaster that has attracted ourselves to each other.