it was all feeling before, now i've fucked myself over with my past again. the mindset of a whore, a teenage girl, typical in every way, naked pictures of herself spread across a useless boy's consciousness so thin, just for one compliment texted in the late hours, barely registered with the shame in her brain. sex. finger fucking. the explicit details run thick. look away. now i'm dreaming of your rejection and differences and proximity. i know i don't want you. i know i don't want this. i don't fucking want this. i want what i've found, so lucky, waited for so long. going slow is such a foreign concept to me it makes my eyes water with my own self-pity. i want pure and clumsy and true and loving, and i don't want to fuck it over with who i've been. i need to escape the old feelings, old habits, old numbers, old me old me old me, drowning my former self in a bathtub doesn't seem like such a bad idea. i want a warm hand to hold, not a cold one getting me off only to sleep on their own side of the bed before morning. i don't want secret exchanges with a boy who won't look at me in the eye the next morning, especially one i'm far too embarrassed of to tote around anywhere. i don't want to reject love anymore. i fucking want love, not want fucking love. i want you, i want you, i want you. i want you in every moment of your being. i want you in every inch of your body. i want yo u in every cell in your brain. i want you to know. i need you to know. i've never felt such a pure feeling with you and i fucking need you to know. i don't want semantics, i don't want bullshit, i want you and you and you and only you. i want butterflies in my belly, not pulse in a sex organ. so fucking lucky to have found you, i am not going to fuck this up. inadequacy complex swallowing me whole. only, i don't even know if it's okay to speak like this, i don't even know if this is within our realm. i don't know if we're to this stage again, i feel trapped by social laws i could feel before but i'm blindly reaching at now. my mind is so fucked over i can't even speak and it's best you didn't answer the phone. i need to tell you, though. i'm a lie, i'm a lie, i'm a lie. i'm not a precious little girl with her heart crossed and hope to die, i'm not. i was before i let myself give in to cliches and senses and pure want, loneliness complex flaring up like never before. i only wanted a hand to hold, a body warm, a moment of something i could pass off as happiness. funny enough, they were hardly that. wolf in a sheep's clothing, all fucking over againandagainandagainandagain. i know you're not. i know you're not. i know. and i'm sorry you chose me, this fucked up little thing torturing herself with every bad thought, every bad movement, every bad word done and said until the sobs wrack me to sleep.
i've sobbed under a computer desk late at night, gasping for breath and clutching the phone at my ear, asking why why why why can't i fall in love? why can they feel it and why can't i? why do they mean it when they say it and i don't?
well, the pathological liar found someone in the end.
i don't even know what else to say. i miss you. i need you. i apologize for the position in which you've been placed.
this is unplanned. i'm sorry.