Fucking
I don’t know if I’m actually happy because I am dating someone else or if I’m just pretending to be happy.
I feel like cursing a lot
I was doing so well and then I have no idea what fucking happened. I’m at the public library hoping you’re some how reading over my shoulder. Like that would actually happen. God damn it. I don’t even want to try to go for proper grammar and sentences.
I was fucking some guy, trying to get over. I argued that you want me to get over you. That I need to move on and that we were never actually meant to be together. I am trying to destroy everything with that guy so I can think about how much of a bastard you are.
Every song makes me think of you. I was watching P.S. I Love You wondering if I loved you that much. I like to think that I do. But then, I’m trying to accept that quite possibly you don’t love me while resisting the urge to messege you to say it. Finish what we started.
Maybe this was all brought up from those pro-life people at the college yesterday. They were giving out pamplets of course and I kept one. It’s been gnawing at me for the last 26 hours. Maybe it was that fortune cookie, I let myself hope you could make another one of my wishes come true.
I wish I could hate you and not love you so fucking much.
Come home.
Jealousy is a bitch. I hardly know what’s going on in your life. I’m not in your life anymore anyways. But I’m so jealous of even your friends because they can be there for you while I’m sitting here wondering if you’ll try to win me back if I fuck some guy.
