It’s choking to think about someone you genuinely like with someone else. It’s even worse knowing that you’re affected by the efforts to move on and you have to swallow it all and look at them and say, “I’m so happy for you, tell me all about the grand time you had with them when you’re home.” Having to cut conversations short because you know they’re with whoever. That fucking sucks because you refuse to let them in because you’re unsure, so now someone else is getting the opportunity to have them like you. That fucking bastard.
Artistically speaking.
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I steal the hearts of women by minding my business and writing about myself.
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