It's 3:16 AM and I'm writing in my blog.

it’s late, and can’t really sleep and it’s the third day in a row that I can’t really sleep and I don’t really know why. I was honestly very excited because i had finally found someone I actually wanted to be with for a while and not just some temporary crush, but it’s in a daze that I write this. I know that you won’t read this, so I’m pretty much free to express whatever I want here. It’s like my private little diary, only I let other people read it. Since the beginning I’ve been wondering if I actually like you or if this is just another one of the ways my brain wants me to be happy. Lately I’ve felt that you like me too, at least you tell me so. I know for a fact that sometimes, when you talk to me, you perceive everything as fake or not real enough. This was also true with the last girl I was in love with. It’s a pattern that repeats itself several times over. First I tell you that I like you. Then I write you pretty things. As long as you don’t have to face me physically, it’ll all be very pretty to you. It’ll all be nice and fake and wrapped in a nice plastic coating. Maybe the feelings I have for you are fake too. Maybe all the things I think I love about you are desperate measures to hold on to something. Maybe I shouldn’t write anything nice for you anymore because you’ll be far away for a while and I am a really impatient person and anyway it’s easier for you to be far away because that way you won’t have to confront any of this in reality. You’ll just lay on your bed and I’ll be several miles away writing about how much I like your eyes and your lips and all the pretty things that I think about you and you won’t really have to believe any of it because I couldn’t possibly like so many things about you. I couldn’t possibly love that many things about you. You’ll probably call me a fool or talk with your friends about how naive I am and how I have the mental stability of a twelve year old and how you’re constantly telling me how you like that but it’s actually just an elaborate prank to make me feel loved. I can’t help but believe that you’re playing with me for when I ask “When will I see you?” you seldom answer or just change the subject. It saddens me to think that I’m this obsessed with you. I thought I had learned to keep my feelings in check, and now I’m head-over-heels for you and I’m starting to believe that all that stuff you tell me about you liking me and wanting to be with me is actually a complete load of crap. It really saddens me to a point where I can’t really sleep and it’s the third day in a row that I can’t sleep and I don’t really know why. It’s sad because recently all I had been thinking about was you, and how you made me feel. I felt happy. I felt like finally you had fallen in love with me without me having to convince you of anything. Things don’t work that way. Things don’t usually work that way. I can’t keep believing that you’re searching as hard within me as I’m searching within you. I can’t expect you to melt with the stuff I write you because I know you are not the kind the girl that melts easily and that bothers me sometimes. It’s a challenge I accept gladly, but it also bothers me sometimes. It makes me very sad that I’m really into you and you say you’re really into me but won’t say anything about seeing me and I’m not even sure what you say is true. maybe I’m just a fucking idiot and this was never going to work anyway and I should just give up and keep zombieing across school every day or slit my wrists or find something else to do with the time I spent talking to you.

I was so excited too…


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