I don't even know what to call this. It's like a story. I believe I'm copying the writing style of Abby Geni. Maybe she aligns with my mind. Maybe she understands. I don't know.
All I can think about is how you treat me versus what you say you want with me. It just makes me feel too confused. I'm usually imagining you driving over to Philly and us talking in the car. Me smiling at you, or having a straight face. Or maybe both, depending on my mood. Sometimes I'm *****. Sometimes I'm sad. Sometimes I'm angry. You'd easily be able to see my slight change in personality, in emotion, mood swings.
I need to workout before it its 1.
I am an open book with you. I can never remember a time I ever lied to you. I don't like lying. I want to be authentic and be myself. All I can wonder is just: Why? Just ******* why? Why do you keep trying to have *** with me and then call me your friend? I thought about it in the bathroom. I think that you like me as a friend but have a problem controlling your ****** impulses around me. Cause I "turn you on." But even your friendship is a problem. Is being racist, making hateful comments about my religion, and constantly nitpicking my intelligence and making me feel like **** what you call a "friend?" I don't get what's wrong with you.
The more I explore life in my little way, and grow curious about things, the more I see the truth about you. But it's also easy for me to get swept up in the grand delusion I ******* have. Being "so in love!" with you. Why?
I went on and on and on about why, for so long. Is this another part of you that I love? That you're a racist *******? Who can't control himself?
My thoughts and memories and disfragmented. Whatever the ******* word is.
I was disappointed when you first showed me your face. I can't remember much but the awkward smile.
That little curve, bent. Like it was forced. Something uncanny. Like an AI staring himself in the mirror. Facade, deceiving himself to think he's some sort of king. A ******* clown.
And that shirtless pic you went around showing everyone like a ****. And of course you had to cheat on me. But for some reason I don't care about that. Because you told me about that so late. Like, 2 years after.
You'e so hard to understand. I'm just tearing up right now. I'll never be the same after everything you did to me. I constantly feel like I can't ******* scream. I can't ******* get angry. I'm getting choked up.
I'm tearing up because I'm also disillusioned. Because I keep being in love with a fantasy. Because it constantly plays inside my head, over and over again.
I walk around life flat-faced, and emotionless. Hiding my painful everyday routine. No ***. No dating. It's killing me, but it's alright. I'll just study and work all day. Holding back the tsunami of pain and emotions that threatens to take over me. A defining mark of a borderline personality. Maybe I should delete my account. Start a new one. I've had so many.
Everything's just going through my head. But especially the thought... the thought of us meeting for real. I would be happy. Would I be happy? Excited.. but would that switch to sadness, knowing the disgusting ******* thing you really are? Or would I lash out, and switch to anger? Would I scream at you? Like I desperately want to?
The way you make me feel is so crazy. So confused. So lost. Normal people look at me like I'm ******* crazy. "Just move on."
"Just let it go."
I don't want anyone else
Every person I'm attracted to you somehow has to have some characteristic of you. They have to look like you. Have the same skin tone as you. Intellect like you. Attractive like you. My ****** desire is for no one but you. The people I attract are even just you. I can't escape from you in my life. You are everywhere. You are everything.
You are the only thing I love. Destabilizing me, making me crazy, ruining my life. All of this other **** is worthless. You are the only one I love.
I guess I do love you and your flaws. Maybe I love the fact that you don't love me. Maybe I love the chaos and drama. Maybe I love hanging by a thread. Maybe I love constantly being depressed everyday because of my internal hell.
I can just imagine you ******* with me again. Trying to have *** with me. Buying me risque things. All you make me feel like is an object. You make me feel like you can't ever see me as a person. You can't ever love me. You just want to always use me. You make me cry. You make me feel tired. Of the same **** over and over again. You live in my head.
At this point I just don't even give a **** anymore.