Even if I do imagine myself holding hands with you every day for the rest of my life, I’ve developed an immunity of sorts. I do like you with a passion. The thing is, even if you reject me, it’ll have no effect on me. That’s the immunity thing. Of course I’m nice to you; I like you. I know girls hate guys being nice to them. It’s in your blood. Probability dictates that if I do try to make a move soon, you’ll probably reject me, and that’s ok. I like telling you that you’re pretty and flirting innocently with you and everything, but I’m not planning on convincing you of doing anything. I’m definitely not planning on keeping insisting unilaterally, I’m tired. Very fucking tired.
And the thing is, when you’ve developed the immunity I’ve developed, it’s not a good thing. At first I wanted you to like me, but now I’m not sure If I do. Maybe this is all an elaborate prank my mind is playing on me. Maybe I don’t even like you. Maybe I don’t really want you to like me, or talk to me, or actually go out with me. Maybe it’s all some kind of desperate measure from my subconscious. Maybe I don’t want to seem interesting to you. Maybe I don’t want to show you the things I can do. Maybe I don’t want to tell you that you’re beautiful. Maybe my thinking you’re beautiful is nothing but an implanted thought established by necessity and kept by conformity. Maybe i should stop talking to you because I’m wasting you’re time and you’re wasting mine in an infinite loop with no happy ending.
Not that you’ll blame yourself, but it’s actually not your fault.