A week later and he refuses to show

why?

Why do you get to decide that?

Everyone keeps telling me that this is just what guys do, that guys are so terrible. But I looked into your eyes! and you listened to me for so long. And when you left the week seemed sincere. And I think you're actually a very good person.

You have to be a good person. And I can't believe you want me to feel like this. With my blood turning to poison, my chords in my chest turning black. Why won't you just make it make sense to me.

you make me feel like scum

I mean, like, I was so excited Sunday night because it kept being closer to monday. And all week I've been waiting to see you. This morning, I woke up too early and couldn't think of anything to do to wait for your call, so I read some Kafka, fell back asleep. I decided 2 was a reasonable time to expect you to wake up, then by 4 you'd call you could be over by 6? I was planning my day accordingly. I kept having these beautiful daydreams.

munch. munch. munch

i mean, you just made me feel so good and safe and warm. And everything was so good.

And then I turned into this obsessive, desperate guy.

And I started realizing all of these terrible faults!

Character flaws.

They're bubbling up from every ounce of my being, I see them on my breath. Can feel them in the veins of my palm.

It's so weird to be ignored.

And I send messages to all of these good looking guys, I have such media-dictated high standards.

And of course they aren't attracted to me, because they've grown up with the same media.

And everyone wants someone that looks like they do, I assume they're the top.

But they're probably being rejected, too, right?

Just like I reject people.

But then there are the people that I'm not rejecting, because they aren't requesting. And I'm not making any advances on them, because they're just in my league. Or...the same league society says we are..or however that works. I haven't worked it out.

But we all thing we're much better looking than everyone else, when really we're all as attractive. We're all 6s. And we want 9s.

But we don't get 9s.

And I think you're a 9. And you were in my bed.

And you don't want to be there anymore.

And it's...there's this terrible lie we all tell ourselves. And we know it's a lie, but we live in it, constantly being disappointed. Then all of a sudden this whole world we've created is true, and someone says we aren't ugly, or uninteresting. That the problems we are constantly thinking about aren't petty or redundant.

And this whole terrible lie seems real. And beautiful. And ... then you get to wrench this world away from me.

This lie come true, my world torn to shreds. And I don't even know how to live in the lie anymore, so of course I'm obsessive.

Because I can't just go back to the lie after I've held it in my hand, known it for what it was, called it by it's name.

I am only left with convincing you.

And just as unlikely as that lie that I was living in since..puberty? Since my first crush in seventh grade.

Just as unlikely as that, I'm still waiting for you.

Hoping for you.