Romantically, you’ve got me wondering if I should be texting YOU twenty-seven times while you sleep soundly, or not wait up and take long strides simply so I can make out with a girl in the front seat of her car just so I can hear from her that I risked it all just to hear that she’s not looking for a four letter word within me. I don’t know if I should be patiently waiting. You’ve got me constantly feeling rejected. All I really want is passion, and I think that stems from the element that I swear to god, gasoline runs through my veins and every subtle move might as well be the match against the grid on the side of a red little box. I can confidently confirm that twenty-seven messages hiding away for me to find would definitely be endearing. But you know how I hate attention.

I’m always wanting to change. I’m learning every day to love myself more and more, though. I want to cut my hair, and dye it. I want tattoos. I want a new closet. I want new bed sheets. I want a shower so warm and to scrub so hard that four years wash off my skin.. I get so angry. I’m getting so mad at the thought of it. I want to be at peace, but I also want to destroy the girl who made you feel that way.

 I want you to know that I wanted to lean into kiss you, but I didn’t want to impose on a feeling. I know what it feels like, to be disgusted. I want you to know that your story made my stomach fill up with moths that were eating me from the inside. That it made me lose my breathing. That it made my hands shake, and eyes tear up. I was so mad, and so reminded. I wasn’t mad at you, though.

I want you to know that sometimes I get very sad and I don’t know why. That there’s moments where I miss my dad, my ex, my almosts, my old best friends, my best friends, my fam, and you, way too much. That I put myself down a lot, but I’m getting better. I’m getting better. Sometimes I feel like I’m getting worse, though.