I shouldn’tuh called.

But you promised to call.

Things do change.

Anyway, I should stop getting hurt. My problem is I haven’t yet, I haven’t let it sink in that you will not be mine.

That that won’t happen.

That I’m alone.

I get hurt too much anyway, and I’m a burden, I’m needy, I’m high maintenance.

Who The Fuck Cares.

I’m never fucking number one. I’m always number one Under the boyfriend.

Fuck.

Why can’t I be the fucking boyfriend.

Why can’t I be the fucking happy one.

Why do I always make myself a fucking martyr.

(They aren’t questions because I fucking love you and will fucking see you in 12 fucking hours and WHO FUCKING CARES.) (WE DO.)