If you were to compare me to a food, I’d be a bitter melon ‘cause I’m fucking bitter. It’s clearly “cuff season” where everyone is starting to look more appealing to everyone else, and hands are drawn closer to each other until their interlocking.
Here’s to another single awareness day this coming up February. At least I can drink legally this year. Maybe I’ll try my luck at a bar, ‘cause clearly the scene I’m in isn’t working out.
Everything is slipping through my fingers, and I’m just sitting back and watching as it all happens. I know what I did wrong, it’s just a matter of fact of growing the balls to make a change.
I can’t help it. We’re apart of two different worlds. You found yours, but I’ve yet to find mine. Have fun.
I’ll just stay here. Don’t worry, I’ll always be that nice guy that never hit on you. I was just trying to establish something deeper than what I’m used to, but how do I do that, if I have no experience?
It seems to me that everyone’s already gotten fucked up without me. I’m sitting here, single as fuck, and people are running around breaking their own hearts. What’s left? Damaged goods?
I don’t know if it’s my timing, or if it’s actually me, but nothing seems to ever work out.
I’ve heard every excuse. Trust me.
"We live too far away from each other." "I have to learn to be happy with myself first." "I just wanna have fun."
Oh, and my favorite: "No strings attached."
Is my future supposed to end up with mindless hookups because that’s just the kind of people us gays are destined to be? Honestly, at this point, I don’t even think love is worth it anymore.
But without it, what am I supposed to live for? Am I supposed to live on every day without a certain someone in mind when every little fucking thing around me has the concept of love in it? Is that even fair?
And while I type this right now, I realize they’re not the only ones that are broken, and there’s no one really to blame but myself, but who likes playing the blame game anyway?
You know what you saw. It was nothing new, but you ostracized me anyway. In front of everyone. Every single word, gesture, connotation, and reaction that came out of you was incredibly demeaning. I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation. I usually care less when someone calls me a whore, but yours specifically scarred. Now all I feel like are your tires that tread through a swamp. Fuck you.
It makes it so much easier to be a fake ass bitch ‘cause in the back of my mind everything is only temporary and nothing about me is genuine. The best feeling in the world come from shit moments like these.