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Monday, September 5th, 2016 07:52 pm
nekrateholic: (Default)
 Sometimes I want to take out Max from Lola and the Boy Next Door out for a beer so we can commiserate over younger girls breaking our hearts. (because as much as Stephanie Perkins tried to make him really, really bad when it was convenient for the story, i am still not convinced.)

Anyway. I was looking through the endless maze of folders on my laptop and found... things. See, me falling in love was always one-sided and when it wasn't...  turned out it still was. I kinda feel pathetic even as I type this but. Well. Where else will I be pathetic if not here.

Sad part is, I tend to go in so hard that when the person drops off the face of social media (long distance crushes. ha) in the middle of a conversation (and then you proceed to find out that no, they didn't. they just dropped off the face of your social media.) I feel just... lost. At first. Then comes the Big Bad Depression thing. To this day I'm not sure if what I go through in these moments qualifies as depression but. It hurts enough to lay awake at 3am trying to choke quietly so I won't wake anybody. (Hey, am I even allowed to be this pathetic on a public blog? whatever). I keep telling myself I'm over it, I convince myself I'm mad instead of hurt but then I go and play Changed by You on repeat and I know even after all these years I'd be back with open arms at the slightest hint of apology. Or contact, to be honest. (pathetic.) Of course, that would require for a certain someone to actually want to do any of the above. (even more pathetic.) (i can't believe i wrote you a poem. ...then again, i really, really can.)

I should have learned. But I didn't. (because what? pathetic. or naïve. who knows) Then again when exhibit no.2 decided overnight that she can't bear the thought of dating a girl (three fucking months and it took you a night? sigh) I wasn't too bothered. (it still hit me a few weeks later.) Then again (x2) the end of this began when I went home, wrote you a fucking essay about how happy you make me and how important you are and how much I loved you and all that jazz, your reaction was "...you won't actually tell anyone, right?!" Talk about anticlimactic. I'll admit though, it did hurt a few months (weeks?) later when you were blogging about your ~first~ love. How you didn't know what it was to be loved before that or sth. Yo, I existed. I wrote you love struck letters. (is this why nobody ever takes me seriously? am i too nice? should i reconsider my hate for dumb good charlotte lyrics?) I suppose this is what I would've said if we had kept in contact afterwards. Oh well.

In the end, I suppose it is my fault I trust my heart with sixteen-year-old girls. (let me hear you! p to the a to the thetic.)
I should've known something was up when each of them tried to woo me with that one the xx song. Man, I hate the xx. (though to be honest i hated them before they (apparently) became the Official Partner Anthem For People That Fuck Me Over, so really. i should have known better.) (one last time! pathetic.)

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