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You can trust me.
Had I known this meant I could trust you to keep secrets from me, as opposed to keeping secrets for me, I would’ve thought twice before letting you into my living room and into my head. I told you things that should’ve acted as a deterrent but instead I feel like they only promoted your promiscuity. I considered you a brother, but you saw me as a human tissue. You cried into my shoulder and I did my best to quiet you, calm you and comfort you, did not judge you for the mistakes you made. It was only when I was betrayed I saw that behind your superman mask hid a phony.
The feeling is mutual.
I should’ve known this was false sooner than I did. I harbored a respect for you that was NOT mutual which became quite clear when you swept all acknowledgment of my emotions under the rug. The last conversation we had was devoid of sympathy when a little bit of Splenda to sweeten the blow would’ve been appreciated. It was blunt enough to cause head trauma which I felt after I spent fifteen minutes crying in my best friends arms as she failed to comfort me. Luckily for her, all I really needed was a packet of Peanut M&Ms and a hug. We continued to laugh until I was in tears again which was a better painkiller than my double dose of Vicodin I was on for my sprained ankle.
You deserve better.
This is one of the biggest lies I’ve been told. I don’t deserve better. After all I’ve been through, I am so emotionally scarred it’d be like dating a metaphorical Rocky Balboa. I don’t deserve better because I’m a fucked up girl with a lot of weird quirks and even though I hear I’m fun to be around, I don’t deserve better. I’m as much a pain in the ass as the next lesbian, and I get attached pretty quickly. It’s no ones fault but my own but I try and blame the stars and justify my emotional fragility with astrology. It’s normal for an Aries to be like this…right?
It’ll change once you get to college.
Well it hasn’t. I’m still this socially awkward girl who doesn’t quite fit in anywhere so I try to fit in everywhere. I’m very aware of how I move because I’ve been told I often look like an ostrich with epilepsy so I strive for a simple ostrich. My mother said my single streak would end in college, and that boys would be tripping over themselves to pay for my dinner…it’s a shame I don’t wanna date boys. I still have the same rotten romantic luck. It’s kind of the story of my life.
You hear lies every day.
It’s up to you to believe them.
I choose to believe that I am not deserving of better, that things won’t change, that the feelings weren’t mutual and that I can’t trust you.
And it’s your own damn fault.