I want to scream.
I think of you, and I think of the fun you're having, and I think of the girl you're with, even though I know there's nothing going on between you two because she has her own boytoy she's seeing.
Or at least I believe that there's nothing going on between you two.
I think of you, and I think of the fun you're having, and I want to throw my phone at the wall so hard that it breaks with a single throw.
I want to tear it up. Something. Anything.
You bring out a neediness in me that frustrates me. I can't think of anything else until you're back. You distract me even when you're gone. It shits me up the wall.
I just want to break something. My fingers. My head. My heart.
I want to call you. But I have nothing nice to say, except that I miss you and I wish you were here. I fill the conversation gaps with bitter words. You bring out the worst in me. I can't get rid of the pain I'm feeling right now so I can't let you get away.
I call you. And I mope. And I cry.
I can't do anything with you here, and I can't do anything without you here.
I need to talk to somebody about my problem. But my head doesn't seek anybody but you. But you are my problem, so I can't do anything about it.
I can't believe you didn't tell me before I found out.
You fucking dickhead. I hate you for having this effect on me.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
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