Fancy Cocktails

It’s been around 3 months since I’ve wrapped my arms around him… Since I’ve heard his voice… Since he’s made me smile… Since I’ve seen how he talks with his hands and how he moves his face…. Now, make that 30 minutes… And in those 30 minutes I realized how much I have not missed him and how much I have. I miss the smile that he put on my face, the hugs he gave, the stories of his past and the dreams he has… I don’t miss the times he lashed out on me or the times he made me feel little and unimportant or the times he made me cry.

Before we both got in our cars and drive off… He made it clear that he doesn’t want to “stoop down” and get my number or hang out with me now that I have changed.

Here I am… Wanting to reach back out to him simply as a friend and hand him the ball after he said he would be stooping down to even hang with me. What a jerk. I’m the one that stooped. I stooped low to even cater to his homeless ass and to drive him wherever he wanted to go. I’m the one wanting to stoop so low now as to text him how much I enjoyed seeing him.

I shouldn’t be allowed to make these types of decisions….

I get so depressed and emotional when he doesn’t text or call me. I am so wrapped up in him. I am so addicted to his love… To his text messages… To his voice. He is my everything. I don’t have him but I feel like I do. It’s these weekends that remind me that he isn’t mine. I don’t have him. I can’t have him. But yet, I lie to myself. I try to fool myself into thinking maybe one day I’ll be that person. But what is the point? It’s hopeless. No one gets it. No one cares. It don’t even matter right now. I’m alone. The good guys have girlfriends. The good guys don’t like my type. The bad guys have side bitches and baby mommas. The bad guys like me. Blah blah. When is it my fucking turn?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

I’m just being honest

I’m just being honest

Lonely thoughts…

Honestly, he’s ruined it for all the others. No one can have me like he can. No one can be as perfect as he is. I don’t trust anyone but him. I question everyone’s motives and moves. I read between the lines and his are my favorite. He does not fit any mold or belong on any scale of one to ten Love. He is off the rector scale. He is full blown, bust your eardrums, bass. He is the pow to my boom boom pow. He is everything I didn’t realize I wanted. He is everything I never thought I’d need. He is the perfect ratio of asshole and gentleman, Heartless and heart felt. Heart of blackened gold .

He dresses my wounds and helps me see my scars. Sadly, I still let in the cruel intentions of others and continually come back to him with new wounds… With new scars I try to hide. But he sees them. He knows. He feels them. I want him and only him to fill them. I want him more than anything. One day I will come to him and he won’t have anymore dressing for my wounds and I will be left in a puddle of blood and try to stay alive. The Wild dogs will smell the blood and they will overtake me and leave me broken. Identity Mangled. I will ask him to see me but he won’t recognize any part of me.