At least don’t tell me when you’re aware of my feelings towards you. “I got no one to talk to, that’s why I’m talking to you.” No, just no. Fuck off. This is not ok. I’m done with your shit. Get out of my life already. This isn’t the first time, which means I probably will get hurt even more if I hold onto you. I’m deleting our messages. Fuck you.
I just want to get a cute apartment with a cute person and wear nothing but underwear and a big t-shirt or sweater and dance around, cook for each other, make our own movies and record each other while we’re playing, smiling, and laughing, and lay in bed together at night snuggled up warm together so close that we can hear each others pulse.